Just buisness
by Akylae
Summary: Apocalypse is looming while Batman is incapacitated. But Bruce Wayne is a man of many skills and secrets. What if the Bat is just another mask? Set just after Doomsday Sanction. Series completed. Please review. Enjoy.
1. Betrayal

Apocalypse is looming while Batman is incapacitated. But Bruce Wayne is a man of many skills and secrets - what if the Bat is just another mask? Right after Doomsday sanction. First two chapters.

Standard disclaimers apply. Made for practice, not profit.

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Betrayal**

Bruce stared out the window and passed the time Earth-gazing. The terminus crossed over the east coast of North America. Hundreds of miles below, the Sun was setting on Gotham. He sighed with regret, wishing he could be down there, watching over his home.

He turned the TV on to take his mind off homesickness. Flipping through the channels, Bruce stumbled onto Luthor's presidential campaign add. The hairs on his nape stood on end at the sight of that suave smile.

The commercial must have been set up by a psychology major. Every detail of it was designed to trigger primal responses, completely bypassing reason. Only because he knew of these was Bruce able to see through them. But he knew Joe Average would buy it.

Lex being president didn't irk him one bit, he'd seen worst men hold office. It's what would follow that did: the death of Flash, the fall of the League, a „safe" Gotham. God, it terrified him. The only thing worst than Joker's maniacal laugh was his unnatural sanity. The thought of it scared Bruce senseless.

A little paranoid voice inside him whispered through the paralyzing fear. Bruce swiveled the keyboard over and typed a few commands. Accessing Watchtower's Earth-surveillance system, he checked today's recording. He needed to know how Clark defeated Doomsday. Needed reassurance of a standard fight.

Bruce watched the recording in fast forward until a flash of light grabbed his attention. He rewound and played the segment again, this time in slow motion and in infrared mode also. His eyes snapped wide and jaw dropped as he watched Clark attempt a lobotomy. Shock gave way to anger.

Sitting up in a flash, Bruce flung the keyboard at the screen with a roaring shout. The IV tube ripped from his vein and life-sign probes peeled off his skin. The heartbeat monitor flat-lined and blared an alarm in response.

With the rush of rage over, Bruce was blindsided with pain. He propped up on one arm and grabbed at the cracked ribs. His face contorted and his whole body shook. Forcing the breathing to steady, he stilled the ache.

Doors swooshed open and the other core leaguers rushed in his quarters.

„What happened? " Clark was befuddled by the wreckage.

„Nothing. " Bruce muttered, pulling a wheelchair over.

„Where do you think you're going? " John stepped up.

„Home. " Bruce drove across the room and opened his closet.

„Not on our watch. " The marine crossed his arms.

After a short rummage through the closet, Bruce pulled out a T shirt and dressed, ignoring the protests of his body. He turned around and faced John again. „**Out of my way**." He ordered in full Bat voice.

John stood like a statue. „Sorry, Bat. "

Bruce gave him a glare but John didn't budge. In a split second, Bruce jabbed two fingers in the other man's solar plexus. John dropped on his knees and doubled over, heaving for breath. Bruce drove around him and ran into his next obstacle, Clark.

„That won't work on me. " The man of steel reminded.

„This will. " Bruce opened the palm of his hand, revealing a kryptonite shard he covertly took from the closet.

Clark backed off as Bruce kept wheeling forward. The others stepped out of their way until all seven were out on the hall. Bruce called the elevator, the others on his heels.

„When will you be back?" Diana was concirned.

Bruce paused, missing her already. „I won't." He entered the elevator.

„Why? " She watched him leave, looking hurt.

„Why don't you tell her? " He looked back at Clark, who stood at a safe distance.

Wally quirked an eyebrow. „Supes?"

Four leaguers stared at Clark, waiting for an explanation.

The elevator doors closed and Bruce descended to transport deck. Once there, he selected his home among the pre-programmed locations and set the timer. Just than the leaguers entered.

„Your fears are understandable, but I believe you are overreacting. " J'onn tried to dissuade him.

Bruce ignored his colleague. Correction, former colleague. He rose from the wheelchair and stood on the good leg, the other one stiff in its cast. Leaning against the terminal, he hopped onto the platform. „You can keep the Watchtower, but have the UN arrange you a new supplier for the Tower. Wayne Enterprise is cutting all ties with the League."

The timer reached zero and Bruce vanished.


	2. Crisis

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Crisis**

A crash shocked Alfred from sleep. He jumped out of his bed and raced across the house. Entering the study, he found Bruce on the floor on all four, struggling to stand up.

„Good heavens! " He shouted and helped Bruce to his feet. „Are you all right? "

„I'll be fine. " Bruce replied as he moved to the big office chair. „Who's on patrol? "

„Richard is on his way presently. " Alfred replied. „Sir, may I ask what you are doing here? I understood you would stay on the Watchtower for a few days. "

„Change of plans. " Bruce opened the laptop.

Alfred frowned. "I'll make a house call appointment for you with Dr Leslie."

Bruce did not acknowledge it. „Set up the sofa. I'll be sleeping here. " He demanded instead.

„How long will you be staying up? "

„The usual. "

„Understood. " The old man replied and left, but his tone hinted at his disproval.

Bruce returned his attention to the charts. He had neglected the company for too long now, and it all came back with interests. „This is odd..." He spoke under his breath as he studied the data.

„Anything wrong? " Alfred returned with bedding.

Bruce shook his head. „Just the opposite. Things are too good to be true. The shares have gone up more than profit alone would explain. "

„What could have caused that? " The old man asked as he prepared the bed.

„Demand for them. "

Alfred turned to face his charge. „I didn't know you sold any. "

„I didn't. " Bruce frowned and typed fast, digging into the data with new interest. „Someone is amassing the ones in circulation. It could be nothing but - Son of a..." He muttered.

„Sir? "

„Lex is attempting hostile takeover. " He stated with murderous cold.

Alfred took pause. „What? "

„He's buying off shares from private owners at five times normal price. Buying Wayne Enterprise right under my nose." Bruce slammed at the desk in frustration. The laptop jumped an inch.

„Oh, my. " The old man whispered.

Bruce closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming. „You better go to bed. This is going to take a while. "

„Very well, sir. Good night. " Alfred closed the door behind him.

„'Night. "

Hours later, Bruce knew a whole lot more about Luthor's recent activities.

He knew that a year ago Lex received a five year federal-level concession for handling medical radiology waste. And got it without competition in due application. The stench of corruption was pungent and far reaching. Bruce also found out Lex sold a good part of it to nuclear-physics research labs. Supplying them with rare, unstable, short half-life isotopes was a very lucrative legal business. Except when the resources were ordered to be buried and buried deep.

Bruce soon realized something didn't add up. More was taken from the hospitals than was either buried or sold away. Lex kept a part of it.

„Kryptonite. " Bruce muttered and dug in again. True enough, a little more digging revealed yet another illegal activity. Lex was buying Kryptonite refining equipment in off-the-shelf segments and assembling them on his own. He was distilling kryptonite in the short time between the hospitals and the labs.

But he had amassed kilos of the stuff. Why so much? What could he possibly need it for?

Bruce sighed. He reaffirmed Luthor was corrupt to the bone, yet had no idea where he got the money to buy that much of his shares in that short a time. And his mind was growing slower with each passing minute. It was time to call it a night.

He yawned and cringed as his ribs ached. „Damn Cadmus and their - " Bruce paused, eyes growing wide in terror. „...nuclear warheads..." He muttered.

The would-be president was building a personal supply of nukes. This brought WMD profiliation to a whole new level.

Bruce squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at the temples. The head ache was threatening to turn into a full-blown migraine. Armageddon was coming and he was both incapacitated and under financial attack. His world was literately falling apart around him.

Strange enough, he wasn't frustrated by it. Rather he felt exhausted. He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to devise countering strategies. For the first time in his life he just wanted to give it all up. Let the world blow itself to bits if it so chose. Bruce didn't care any more. He just wanted to be left alone, curled up in a ball sleeping, oblivious to everything around him.

So he sat up, made his way to the sofa and slumped on it, asleep before his head hit the pillow.

_To be continued..._


	3. Enlistment

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Enlistment**

Just before ten am, the cold winter sun peered through the Venetian blinds, not accidentally striking the sofa. Bruce stirred under the covers and made a lionesque yawn. The alarm clock beeped its warning and was promptly slammed silent.

Contrary to people's assumptions, Bruce rose relatively early. At the cost of daily hour-long meditation, he could go by with the minimum required four hours of sleep. It was the only way to have three jobs: manager, detective and guard.

Flinging the cover off himself he sat up on the bed's edge and nursed his tender side. Aside from the alarm clock, he noticed other novelties that Alfred brought in while he slept. A wheelchair stood next to the bed and in it some clothes.

The solid sleep recovered his spirits and willpower. „Dial Lucius." Bruce ordered with newfound determination.

The phone immediately gave off dialing tones and started ringing.

„Good morning Mr. Wayne. " The other man greeted brightly. „I see you've returned from your vacation early. " His tone of voice conveyed the fact he knew the real reason of Wayne's absence.

„Clear your lunch. " Bruce cut straight to business. „Reschedule whatever you've got planed. "

„A board meeting will be hard to reschedule. "

„Luthor is trying to acquire Wayne Tech via shares. " Bruce explained as he made way toward the table. "If he succedes the rest of Wayne enterprise will be easy picking."

„Meeting postponed." Fox replied a moment later.

„Find out how he's financing the exploit." Bruce skipped acknowledging his words and just went on with the task at hand. „We need to devise a counter strategy. I'll send you everything I've found out so far. " He was already logged on and uploading the data. „I want a plan yesterday." He insisted.

„I'll take it as top priority." Lucius replied. „Goodbye Mr. Wayne."

„'Bye Lucius." Bruce hung up. „Time to move out." He whispered and accessed Watchtower. He was neither surprised nor pleased to see his access code still worked. „Liability. " He noted coldly before moving his files from the satellite to home base.

He was, however, surprised to see the half of it were his medical files. The League assignments proved to be more taxing on his health than even the Arkham inmates. Perhaps another good reason he left. Seeing how Leslie will be coming to examine him soon, Bruce printed out the latest reports.

Since he was already logged on; and Clark probably kept news of his departure under wraps, in hope of his quick return; Bruce decided to contact one low ranking Leaguer. Four times he tried to contact him, and four times the contact was refused before stopped, as protocol the demanded. Just as he did he was approached in turn.

„Yes? " Question was cautiously curious.

„**Examine Lex for Kryptonite, Seven kilos solid form, search private and company locations, start with radiology waste**. " Bruce recited quickly and efficiently.

„That amount is sub critical. " Q diagnosed, apparently not impressed by the severity of it.

„**Amount expected to increase, surpassing critical before elections.** "

A short silence fell. „I'm on it. " he accepted the request. „Batman? " He wanted to share some findings.

„**Yes? " **Bruce was neither anticipating his words nor dismissing him before hand.

„Cadmus has enlisted other businessmen." He sounded foreboding. „Wayne Enterprise is expanding their government defense-contract. They've recently moved from supplying Gotham Police to supplying the entire state, and planning to go nation wide."

Bruce rolled his eyes. Question rated him off to himself, about the one thing that made his missions possible in the first place. „**I know.** " He answered laconically, making sure annoyance didn't slip in the delivery. „**Wayne Tech is the producer of non lethal equipment. Risk is negligible.** " He did his best to sooth Question's nerves short of spilling the beans. „**Batman out.**"

_To be continued…_


	4. Medicine

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Medicine**

A thud came from inside the guest bathroom, followed by muffled cursing.

„You should have called me if you needed assistance." Alfred chided from the hall.

„I can take care of myself, thank you. " Bruce sounded annoyed. „I'm not a baby. "

„Sometimes you act otherwise, sir. " Alfred did his humble-yet-superior thing again.

The deafening roar of the shower was the only reply. Bruce killed the conversation without a word. There were two things he hated most: being in the center of attention and being incapable. And because they meant both, He really, really hated being someone's patient.

A half hour later, double the time it would usually take him to tend to his appearance, Bruce came out shaven, groomed and semi-formally dressed. Moments after, the doorbell rang. Alfred strode through the lobby to open it.

"Good day Dr Tompkins. " He greeted the elderly woman. „Do come in. "

„Hello Alfred. " She gave him an affectionate smile. "Hello Bruce. "

„Hi Les. " Bruce approached her with a genuine warm smile gracing his face, which in his case meant he was melting. „Nice to see you. "

„It would be nicer if I didn't only see you when you are bandaged. " Leslie answered curtly.

"There are always our yearly meetings." Bruce replied sheepishly.

„About that, I have some names for you. " Leslie gave him a paper. „New customers at the clinic. "

Bruce looked over the short list and nodded. „I'll give it to Fox. I'm sure we'll arrange something. " He pocketed the paper and. "You haven't told them anything, have you?"

"Not a word." She replied following him to the study. "But why secrecy around scholarship donation."

"_Selective_ scholarship donation." Bruce corrected. "Given to the unemployed adults or youth to at greatest risk of turning to crime in order to remove them from potential criminals populace." He handed Leslie a thick file. "My last medical report."

"I still see no reason for secrecy." She commented as she examined the papers.

"Crime runs by the law of supply and demand, Leslie." Bruce explained. "Taking out only the supply means new providers appear as old ones vanish. But we can't risk the mafia finding out we're been shrinking both their customer _and_ employee populace." He warned.

„Well in any case, the fund is a much better method of crime fighting than your nocturnal activities. " She handed the file back for emphasis.

„Les..." He half-groaned. „You know I have to do it."

"I understand. But that doesn't mean I have to like it. " She insisted. "Now take the shirt off, I need to check those ribs."

„No one is asking that much." He said while obeying her request. "But the symptoms have to be treated as well as the cause. And it's a prime decoy for the main strategy. As long as people think Gotham is safer because of the Bat, no one will suspect the fund, let a lone try and tamper with it."

„Brucie the buffoon everyone sees and overlooks, the Bat a bait no one sees but everyone looks for - " Leslie recalled the now decade old strategy.

„And me in the middle, free to execute the mission. " He concluded as she finished examining him.

"Well, everything looks good enough." Leslie gave her assessment. "I'll drop by in a few days to take the brace off, but the cast stays for a month at least. That way you'll be forced to stay grounded until you've recovered completely. "

"Guilty." His hands flashed up in surrender.

As he followed her to the door her face turned from chiding to saddened.

"Les? "

„I just wish we didn't have to keep all these secrets. " She sounded disappointed. „It hurts hearing you being called a careless idiot and not being able to say a word to disprove it."

„The people who's opinions matter already know. " Bruce saw her out with a smile.

_To be continued…_


	5. Succesion

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Succesion**

Dick dragged himself into the kitchen scratching his head, obviously straight from bed. The sleepy eyes, baggy sweatpants, crumpled t-shirt and tussled hair were a stark contrast to Wayne's pristine appearance. "Aw man, not bird-food again." He whined at the sight of whole-grain cereals waiting at his place on the table.

„Yes bird food." Bruce spoke from behind the screen that was the Daly Planet newspapers. "You stand in for me, you do things my way. Bird Boy. " He gave him an intimidating look.

Dick sighed and dug in. "Bird-man if you must." He frowned at Bruce.

Bruce just turned the page. „How was patrol? "

Dick shrugged. „Slow night. „Is it me or is this place more... safe, every time I come by? "

„It's you. " Bruce answered deadpan.

Dick beamed at the masked compliment; the only kind Bruce knew how to give. "Gimme the celebrity pages." He reached over the table. "I wanna see how Clark explained you flying after a nuke. You did have an 'interview', didn't you?"

"We've agreed upon a cover story." Bruce confirmed and gladly handed him what he personally perceived as the brainless section. "Knock yourself out."

„_The public is very interested in your condition, Mr. Wayne. Can you tell us what happened?_ " Dick read the article just to irk his surrogate father. „_Well I decided to get out of the city for the weekend so I took the private jet to a tropical resort. The pilot did something incredibly stupid and managed to crash the plane. Fortunately, nothing serious happened_. "

Dick snickered. "Clark couldn't lie if his life depended on it – He's deceiving billions with the truth."

"Assumption is the mother of all baloney." Bruce stated, than gave Dick a dead serious look. "And those are my lines." He took jealous credit for his creative ideas.

"You really want to take over some day, don't you?" Bruce asked from the blue.

"Finaly!" Dick shouted at the sky.

Bruce grabbed his head and waved it. "All right, put on a suit. I'll be in the study."

"Suit?" Dick frowned. "This is gonna be good." He was sarcastic as he left for his room.

"And, Dick."

"Yeah?"

"Gimme, wanna and yeah are _not_ English." He gave the first lesson.

Entering the study, Bruce took some files form a drawer. Just as he was about to logg off he noticed a note from the chess forum. At another time he would have gladly accepted, but now he had pressing business. Still, a voice in the back of his mind urged him to give it a look. Something about it was unnervingly interesting.

_You are a highly ranked player, BlackNight. _

_It would be an honor to face off with you in a traditional, one move per day game. _

_Do you accept?_

_AlexandertheGreat_

Bruce frowned at the smugness seeping from the challenge. „Alexander...? " His eyes shrunk to slits. He opened a drawer and pulled out a chess set.

_I'll take the black king. _He typed and mailed the note.

A chessboard appeared on screen as Bruce set up the real thing on his desk.

The opponent opened with the king's pawn two squares forward, taking the center and clearing the way for his queen and king-side bishop.

Bruce knew a person's first move spoke volumes about their character, style of play and particularly their current strategy. Right from the start this player exposed his king in order to open the road for an early attack. Like his namesake, he was aggressive and direct, predictably so.

Bruce chose for a defensive game. He moved his queen-side knight towards the center line, having it flanked by two pawns. He planed to take the center and keep it.

"Ready." Dick said from the door, nearly giving Bruce a heart attack.

The kid was getting better by the day. No, not kid, Dick was no younger than he when he started.

Bruce logged off, picked up the files and gave Dick a cold, analytical stare. „Before you can take over the brunt of the mission from me you have to get to know it." He wheeled over to his son. "All of it. " Bruce emphasized. Even though he was sitting below Dick's eye level, he had the mental advantage.

Dick rolled his eyes. „ I know the mission inside out. I've been preparing to take over since I was ten. "

„Do you know how I finance our activities." Bruce drove to the garage where Alfred was already waiting. "Or get the money to pay for all the collateral damage?"

Dick shrugged. „You don't buy hundred yard long yachts? " He packed the wheelchair in the back.

„True. " Bruce snickered as he sat in the limo. „But there's more. Even more than this. " He gave Dick the files.

Dick sat down opposite him and muttered unintelligibly as he flipped through the pages. What on Earth did consumer research on kids have to do with all this he had no idea. Until he read the top ten best-selling products. Dick's expression changed from normal to confused to totally bewildered.

„_Toys_? _You_ sell JLU _toys_? "

„No. " Bruce denied intently. „That would be too obvious and too narcissistic even for me. A small Chinese company affiliated with Wayne Enterprise dose the production. Two independent European companies handle transport and marketing respectively. Local distribution is done by local affiliates of Wayne Enterprise. We just patented an urban legend and sold them exclusive rights, in exchange for a percent of profit from each item sold. "

Dick blinked. „Okay..." A moment later, when it sank in, he was irked. „So why didn't you tell me about this earlier? "

„You never showed interest in the business. " Bruce shrugged. „All you ever wanted to be is an on-the-field crime fighter. "

„Because I thought that's who you really were. I wanted to be like you. " Dick nearly shouted.

Bruce was speechless. How could he have been so blind?

„You always act like Wayne Enterprise was the dullest thing in the world. " Dick continued. „I mean you only go there once a month. "

„The missinterest really is an act, Dick, and one only meant for the public." Bruce explained. „I thought you recognized it as such. Like when I play drunk at receptions to coax admissions from less welcome guests. " He sighed. „I didn't want to give _you_ the wrong impression."

„'Sokay." Dick smiled, and noticed Bruce did not correct his English this time. „So, what's the real mission than? "

„Let's start with those monthly meetings. " Bruce began.

_To be continued…_


	6. Lesson

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Lesson**

The limo parked at the rear of the city's tallest skyscraper. Dick and Bruce took the maintenance crew entry and than the cargo elevator to the topmost floor. Keeping up appearances was important and reckless celebrities didn't go to work straight form the hospital bed. The meeting was in Fox's office, as was customary. It was only one of the small gestures with which Bruce acknowledged the older man's importance to the company.

„He's selling his own shares, isn't he? " Bruce spoke as Dick drove him in Lucius' office.

The older man rose from his desk. "Yes." He stammered, torn between greeting them, answering and inquiring about Dicks presence.

Dick silently shook Fox's hand and took a corner seat, letting the two men talk.

"I've been digging so deep I've missed the obvious." Bruce passed a hand through his short cropped hair."

Assuming Dick would just be a spectator for now, Fox turned his attention to Bruce. "How did you find out?"

„He told me. " Bruce answered mysteriously, his eyes downcast and his mind hard at work. „This means his have gone down while ours are going up. " He spoke quietly, thinking aloud.

Lucius slumped back into his chair. „It will be easier to buy LexCorp shares than our own." He sighed.

Bruce looked at him, his face a eureka. „What's the status of the development fund? "

„The donations have exceeded our expectations. Why? "

„We'll forgo standard practice of profit reinvestment and use all fund resources to buy every LexCorp share available." Bruce made an explanation and an order in the same phrase.

Realizing, Lucius leaned in closer. „He'll buy us, we'll buy him..."

„And than we'll switch back." Bruce confirmed. "Of course we'll have to do it indirectly so as not to alert him of our knowledge of his plans"

"Of course." Lucius nodded, than stapled his fingers „But if we use the fund, it goes public. " He warned.

Bruce gave Dick a questioning look.

Dick made a slight, slow nod.

"Just gather the money." Bruce said reassuringly. "And while we're talking about the fund, here are more names. " Bruce handed him Leslie's list.

„You know, I've looked up Gotham's crime rate a few days ago." Lucius said as he wrote down the names in his schedule. „We're at the top. Lowest crime rates in the state. "

„Really? " Bruce and Dick both leaned in closer, pleasantly surprised and curious about details.

„Which makes me wonder... How come no one picked up on it by now? "

„There is a reason I bought the Daly Press, you know. " Bruce smiled slyly. „Besides, sex, drugs and violence are good for sales. "

Lucius tilted his head. „I thought that was about that over-curious Kent fellow. "

„Three birds, one stone. " Bruce held up the fingers.

Dick looked in awe.

„Do you need me at all? " Lucius asked in genuine curiosity.

„You're indispensable. " Bruce both complimented and thanked his partner.

Suddenly the intercom speaker came alive with static. "Sorry to interrupt Mr. Fox." A woman's voice came from the other side apologetically. "Miss Diana of Thermescya is here to see Mr. Wayne in the name of Hera's women shelter."

"Could her highness please wait for me in my office while I conclude the meeting?" Bruce answered rather dismissingly, his distaste of royalty only slightly hinted at.

"I can do that, Mr. Wayne." Diana was polite but disappointed at his tone.

"We're pretty much done." Lucius told Bruce.

"I know." Bruce was idle.

"Leaving her to simmer, ha?"

"Only a little." He replied. "I want her to see just who she is dealing with."

_To be continued…_


	7. Understanding

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Understanding**

Diana gawked at the sight of his office, bigger and better furnished than Clark's apartment. Its size and oppulance ran contrary to everything she knew about him as Bat.

The first to catch her eye were no less than six diplomas dominating the trophy wall behind the desk, each from an institution most famous in their respective fields. Lausanne Technology Institute and London School of Economy stood side by side with Mayo Clinic and Kashime Shinto Ryu. As impressive as they were, they did not surprise her, but she assumed anyone coming with the preconception of Bruce as airhead playboy would be quite awestruck.

Diana walked up to the credenza underneath them, looking over his collection of eclectic art. She smiled at the sight of her sister's earlier, unrefined works, but frowned at the katana and the sentiment behind the 'art' of war.

The bulky oak desk was empty save a leather bound notebook, a clerk-lamp, and a framed photo of his extended adopted family. The desk was backed by a throne-like leather armchair which faced two simpler guest chairs.

Idly walking around, Diana paused to inspect the contents of a wall-large library. The books, arranged by category, ranged from science papers and technical manuals to philosophical works and literature classics. Half of them were not written in English but in the original languages. Mandarin, Arabic and Hindi took a solid third of the science works; Greek and Latin dominated the ancient texts while literature was evenly shared among Spanish, French, German, Italian and Russian.

The other half of the long office looked like a lounge, with four armchairs framing a coffee table. and more art arranged on more credenzas. Diana concluded this was a place for hosting closer partners, permanent customers or contractors. She hoped Bruce would invite her there, but stayed in the formal half just in case.

Just as she was beginning to feel restless, a suave baritone quired. „Surprised?"

„Actually, yes." Diana turned to the door. „You give the impression of not caring about luxury."

„That depends on how you define the term." He kept his distance so he wouldn't have to look up while keeping eye-contact. „I prefer simplicity over ornaments, but quality is more economic in the long run."

„Than what of your quarters?"

„Added too late in the design process to be anything but a room crammed into the installation maintenance and control deck. " He explained matter-of-factly.

„You could have furnished it better. " She was still evading the big issue.

„Space has limitations. Besides, a little hardship helps appreciate the finer points of life. " Bruce was getting tired of beating around the bush, especially since he was the one talked about. „Is there a reason you came other than inviting me to a charity ball I co-organized? " He took over the discussion.

Diana realized her answer would determine wether this would be a personal or formal discussion, so she chose her words carefully. „I came here to... apologies... for not convincing Clark to postpone the vote until you woke up form post-op. "

Bruce grit his teeth but moved to the informal half. „Apology accepted. " He said without emotion.

Wheeling over to the large windows he stood facing away from her, staring at the cityscape instead.

She recognized the gesture. Bruce was emotionally shielding himself before he'd tenaciously open up.

„He is terrifying me. " He admitted, fully understanding Waller for the first time.

Diana frowned. „Clark? Why? "

„He has taken it on himself to be judge jury and executioner. As well as police. " Bruce looked back at her but quickly turned away again. „This was an incident on Santo Carro territory, returning Doomsday to Cadmus was _not _the only alternative. The League is in direct contact with the General Secretary, he could have arranged for some kind of international court. "

„America would demand Doomsday back. " Diana countered.

„After this? " He gave her a chiding look. „They would sooner sever all ties with it. " A moment of silence later he continued. „But he didn't even inform the Security Council of the attack, he chose to deal with it internally. And not even that, of over fifty members only the core ones were in on the vote. All he had to do is convince two more people to have his way democratically. Him being team leader, that's not very hard, is it?" His question wasn't really a question.

„You know Shayera was out of the vote? "

„I'm surprised you didn't have her do it. " He sounded harsh. „She is your unofficial killer. "

„Bruce! " Diana was deeply insulted.

„How did Wally vote? " He neither backed his statement nor apologized.

She blinked, surprised by the sudden change of topic. „Excuse me? "

„Was it unanimous or did you ignore his warning? " He uttered the no-win question.

„Clark convinced him it was for the best. "

Bruce clenched the armrests. „Unanimous..."

„No." Diana corrected. „I voted against it. "

Bruce swiveled around to face her, his expression one of genuine surprise. „You were against the phantom zone? " He sounded disbelieving. „I'd assume that, as Amazon, you'd be the first to suggest execution."

„I had a feeling that's not what you'd have done. "

„You've forgone your opinion to bring mine into the discussion?" Bruce wheeled closer, overwhelmed by gratitude. He finally gestured her to take a seat.

„I've changed my opinion because of your arguments. " She corrected, sitting in the chair closest to him, so they would be standing at an angle instead of directly opposed.

„I see. " He whispered, realizing that two out of the Big Three, as people dubbed them, were now aware of the danger, and thus immune to it. Perhaps things weren't so bad after all. „There may yet be hope for the League. " He now looked at her with an expression free of fear, anger or bitterness.

„In that case..." Her tone turned softer. „Will you be coming back? "

„I will think about it. " Bruce was honest. „Anything else? " His tone was inviting rather than dismissing.

„No. " Diana rose. Knowing he would give the them another chance was enough for now.

Bruce saw her out while driving next to her in comfortable silence.

_To be continued..._


	8. Bills

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Bills**

„Man..." Dick slouched at the limo's back seat and whipped his face. „Let me see if I got it: Expendables like flash-bangs are made along with the police equipment; non-expendables like the suits are test prototypes and go under research and development; and the toys cover unpredictables."

Bruce nodded.

„And you _got paid_ to build the Watchtower? " The youth stared at Bruce in disbelief.

„You thought it came out of my pocket? " Bruce blinked. „That's the second largest satellite in orbit, right after the ISS. And _it_ that came out of the budgets of twelve nations. The UN _hired_ us to build it. "

Dick propped on the armrest. „So how did you manage to be the constructor-whatever? "

„A little connections, a normal price..." Bruce gave him the general idea. „You wouldn't believe how much some companies exaggerate the price of these things. "

„So you were cheep? "

„Ye- **no**." Bruce rolled his eyes. „We were fair. " He pointed out. „And we would have made quite a profit if most of it didn't have to make the base of the insurance fund. "

„Wo-ho. " Dick waved. „What fund?"

„The one from which the league's bills are paid. " Bruce stated. „It destroys more civilian property than enemy one - the epitome of 'friendly fire isn't.' And I swear, if Kent didn't make half of that himself..." Bruce trailed off. "That man may be stronger than a locomotive but he's as subtle as a train wreck. "

Dick snickered. „Ok, so if the UN paid it, that means all the nations paid it. "

Bruce nodded.

„And America being the richest paid the most."

Another nod.

„That means American taxpayers paid for it."

„True." Bruce was getting impatient.

„And the richest Americans paid the most?"

Bruce frowned. „You're saying than in some small way I paid myself?"

„I was thinking that in some small way Lex is financing his worst enemies. " Dick made a sly grin.

„Well considering how much he evades taxes it s a very, very small way. " Bruce hid the fact he didn't saw that one himself, but his opinion of Dick was growing better by the minute.

"True." Dick chuckled. He soon turned serious again. „Why so many government contracts?"

„First off, the government is a stupid customer, willing to pay obscene prices, so if you come with a borderline normal demand the job is yours, definitely." Bruce explained. „The second is that you can see what's going on from the inside. What do you think how I knew when to pull out of Arabia? "

„They sent you an order of humvee's? " Dick risked.

„Bingo. "

Dick squinted. „Is that how you spy on Cadmus? "

„Among other methods, yes. " Bruce was pleased that Dick deduced this tactic. „I use it as a kind of first alarm, than move on to standard espionage. "

„Like Q? "

„Like Q..." Bruce was not very enthusiastic about that particular source. _Who should have found something by now..._ He thought to himself.

Alfred turned to the two men. „We have arrived, gentlemen. "

_To be continued..._


	9. Tension

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Tension**

The polite smiles fell as soon as Alfred left the room.

Clark made a straight face. "If you don't want to be in the League, that's your choice. But you can't use its members for your needs and you can't keep information from us." His voice was firm yet calm.

Bruce returned his gaze. "I wouldn't have to be using them if you did." He remarked on the vote. "And I'm not keeping anything from you. There is no evidence that Lex has the weapons." He was deadpan.

"We could have checked it out." Clark stood his ground.

"Like you checked out LexCity?" Bruce poked. "This may well be another trap. Another attempt to make you loose your temper. Its just what he needs. Go ballistic before the elections and you might as well hand him the crown."

Clark frowned. "Crown?"

"He wants power and he wants you out of the way. I don't know what is the motive and what is the mean any more and I bet he doesn't either. But I do know one thing." Bruce tapped the table. "Carry on like this and one of you is going to be a tyrant, the other is going to be dead, and your beloved American dream will be gone along with half of humanity." Bruce clenched his fists. "And the truth is I'd rather have him as tyrant than you.

Clarks eyes went wide with shock.

"At least as human he's easily overthrown."

"Come on, Bruce." Clark was annoyed and insulted. "I'm just a farm boy, remember." He tried to ease the other man's nerves.

"You think that's a good thing?" Bruce squinted. "You think naiveté is a virtue? He's playing you like a stringed doll. You, Cadmus, the public... He's pushing all the right buttons and you're all playing along to his tune."

"Lex is not manipulating us." Clark crossed his arms, adamant.

Bruce swung his hand open. "Use your x-ray vision, Clark, this is textbook intro to tyranny. Two sides, mistrust, civilians in the middle, mounting tension, fear..." He ticked on his fingers. "All that is needed now is one spark and the people will hand over their rights to the highest bidder." Bruce barked.

"And what makes you think you're immune and we're not." Clark leaned over Bruce's desk.

"Did you see the possibility of this is being a rouse?" Bruce held his gaze.

Clark was silent.

"I didn't think so." Bruce eased, scoring a point.

"I'll just have to find out if it is." Clark turned to leave.

"Where will you get a warrant?" Bruce stopped him in his tracks.

Clark turned. "What warrant?"

Bruce snickered an almost panicked laugh. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. Exactly what he'll use against you." He leaned over, drawing all of his concern for his friend; colleague. For Kent. "Don't do it. This is not some monster you can bash into the ground. Fists and laser eyes won't help you with Lex. Let me deal with him my way. If I look into it and get caught its industrial espionage and the worst thing to happen is a civil lawsuit. If you go looking its overstepping authority and lord knows what else will come of it."

"I'm sorry." Clark rose to leave. "But he has to be stopped."

"Stay out of it, Kent! " Bruce stood up, popped against the desk. "That's an order!"

Clark looked back at him. "You can't order me, Bruce. You're not even in the League any more."

"Now that's where you're wrong." Bruce almost sounded like Luthor. "Batman can't, but I can."

Clark frowned, not seeing where he's going at.

„Where do you work? " Bruce suddenly changed the conversation's direction.

„The Daly Planet. " Clark answered, befuddled at the turn of events.

„And you live? "

„In Metropolis. What dose this have to do with anything? "

„Everything. It means Superman is just a role you play. "

„It's not just a role. " Clark protested.

„Not just, but it is a role. " Bruce corrected. „Otherwise you'd have said you work for the League and live in the Watchtower. "

The silence was consent.

„Clark, who owns the Daly Planet? " Bruce continued with the Socratic Method.

„Wayne Publishing. " Clark answered dryly, realizing where this was going.

„And the Sullivan residential? " Bruce pressed on.

„You. " Clark nearly spat the word out.

„Superman is the leader of the League, and Batman, an ex outside associate, can't overrule his decisions. But as Bruce Wayne, your employer _and_ landlord, I'm orderingyou to stay out of this. **All of it**." The bat seeped into his words. "Refrain from interfering with Cadmus, or with the upcoming elections, or Luthor's business. If I suspect you're planning anything, you **will** be a Kansas farm boy, because Clark Kent will find himself a **jobless**, **homeless** man with no chance of **ever** making a comeback. **Understand**? "

„Perfectly. " Clark was bitter. „Goodbye Bruce. " He stomped out and slammed the door shut.

_To be continued…_


	10. Experiment

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Experiment**

Bruce sat in the heart of a U shaped lab nook, in the corner of the cave, working on his pet project. A stack of books stood on one table: findings on the 'resurrecting' bacteria, stem cell research, DNA repair mechanisms and studies of reptilian limb regeneration. The long, several times folded list he examined was titled: Lazarus substance breakdown.

It consisted of bacteria, fungi, lichen, organic compounds, inorganic substances and what not. A lot of these were blacked out as trace-element pathogens - the reason its consumers would temporarily go mad. Some were marked blue as inert; others green as previously known medicine. The remaining couple of dozen were ran through numerous tests. Would they damage extracted cells? Would they heal damaged ones and which damage could they heal? Would they have effect on lower mammals?

Some Bruce had rejected because of their ineffectiveness, or because the side-effects outweighed the benefits. But there were seven compounds, four organic and three inorganic molecules, underlined with red, that were just mind boggling. He left the list and turned to a file cabinet. Searching for the key seven files, one per odd substance, he found a picture among the papers.

A photo of the commissioner and his daughter, known as Oracle, who were like a brother and niece to him, taken at her graduation. Bruce felt a pang of guilt at the sight of her condemned to a wheelchair. He felt in part responsible for the crimes of his rogues, the lost ones as he called them, and Joker most of all.

„I'll make it up to you..." He gently stroked the photo and placed it back in the main project file.

Finding what he was looking, he cleared one entire table and started lining the file contents in a matrix.

On the top row he placed before-and-after pictures of cellular-level experiments: The pages looked as if they'd come from a commercial for an anti-aging cream. Blood cells, nerves, skin, all regenerated. The second row held tissue sample tests. Again commercial-like but a little less dramatic: slow and steady recovery, nothing miraculous. The third row held written reports on mammals. He knew them by heart, and could sum them up in a sentence: general health improvement, no regenerative abilities and no negative mental side effects.

The files just stood there, mocking him, his optimism and his efforts. The voice of doubt reminded he was nothing like his father, wasn't a healer and will never be. Sighing, Bruce rolled out.

Once back in the manor Bruce headed for the dojo, if he didn't meditate while alert he risked falling asleep and that would loose him four hours of precious time. Perhaps after the meditation his head would clear up enough to let him tackle the problem from a new angle.

Realizing the cast would make both the seiza and lotus impossible, he was forced to perform the practice lying supine. Not long after steadying his breathing, Bruce drifted off into a lucid dream. It wasn't the first time it happened, and though it was only half as effective, it usually repaid in other ways. An hour later, Bruce slowly opened his eyes, sat up carefully and whispered but one word:

„Synergy. "

The cargo elevator clanged against the hard rock. Bruce rolled out across the cave, parking at the terminal. He adjusted the molecule simulator to analyze multiple compound interactions. As the simulation began, he moved back into the lab.

He unlocked a drawer and took out a safe box with a thumbprint lock. Inside the foam-lined box were twenty five slots but only seventeen vials of slimy green ooze. He selected a half-empty vial and sampled a drop, emptying the pip content in a cup of saline. The ooze diluted into a murky green fluid which he poured into a still's funnel.

After going through a still, some filters and what not, the liquid was separated into eight tubes: seven compounds plus remains. As he labeled each, the computer beeped. Bruce made a wide smile. He loved the net and grid technology, so much better than the Crays.

The pop-up read:_ Optimization complete_. Bruce plucked the readout from the printer and examined it on the way back to the lab. Mixing the potion according to the recipe, he took several petrie dishes

with mammalian tissue cultures. After killing the cultures in various ways, Bruce applied a drop of the mix in each dish. Something unexpected happened.

Unlike in the previous tests, the cells did not recover to their previous healthy state but transformed into stem cells. His eyes shrunk to slits, his mind mulling over the new data. After photographing the stem cells, he took a few more petrie dishes and damaged their cultures without killing off all the cells. Than he moved the stem cells into the second set of petire dishes and, just as he was about to store them in the incubator, Bruce got another surprise. The cultures were recovering right before his eyes. Sure the fat reserve layer shrunk, but the active layer was back to normal in under a minute.

Bruce sent a glance toward an animal cage were an injured bat hung, it's wing crippled and useless. The creature was docile, resting on the bar. Bruce knew that without flight it would not eat, because only live pray interested it. And with that kind of metabolism it would die in a matter of days. With nothing to lose, Bruce took a syringe, sampled a little of the drug and carefully opened the cage.

„Hey there little fella. " Bruce soothed the creature that cowered in his hand. „Let's see if this helps? "

He found a big vein at the base of its wing and injected the substance. Unbidden awe appeared on his face as the deformed, immobile wing healed before his very eyes. The creature lost some fat tissue but was otherwise fine. And its docile character didn't change one bit. As if surprised that its wing worked again, the bat gave a few test strokes before fluttering upwards, joining its brood.

Watching it fly, Bruce got an idea and pulled out his cell phone. Fox's automatic secretary answered.

„Fox, It's Bruce. I've got something for WayneChem that needs immediate testing. This thing has to be patented ASAP. You'll get the data first thing in the morning. I don't want to exaggerate but… You know what, I think you better see it for yourself. " Bruce turned the tube in his hand. "Bye." He flopped the phone shut.

Still stating upwards, he smiled and whispered. „This one's for you, dad. "

_To be continued..._


	11. Infiltration

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Infiltration**

The morning was bright and warm. The spires of Metropolis glistened in the warm glow of low light.

Lex stood at the window of his apartment, looking out at the magnificent city and reveling in the thought he was its de-facto lord. He had his fingers in three out of four things in that city. A silhouette of its distant first neighbor caught his eye. Gotham, his newest conquest, stood just within grasp.

„All liquidated LexCorp shares are sold as of 21:46 pm lat night. " his assistant Mercy Graves began right from the door. „The assets for acquisition of WayneTech are now secured. "

„Excellent. " Lex took another smoke from the Cuban. He walked over to the chess set on the table and took the black knight with his queen. „Who are the buyers? "

„A number of private persons but mostly a certain Grayson Investment fund. " Mercy read from the file.

„Background? "

She flipped a few pages. „A new company, established days ago. Owned by one Richard Grayson. "

„Richard Grayson..." Lex rubbed his chin. „Never heard of him. "

„Recently turned twenty one. He bought the shares using the money from a fund set up by his parents. Apparently he plans on sponsoring expensive scholarships for high paying jobs. "

„Impressive foresight, his folks. " Lex was pleased with what he heard. „And the young man is competent too. He can spot an opportunity and is not hesitant to seize it." He smiled smugly. „Mercy, write. Mr. Grayson..."

„_...It is a custom of LexCorp to give a seat at the board to all persons owning 5 of LexCorp shares or more. " _Dick read the mail_ „Therefore you, as owner of 12 are entitled to two votes on any and all board meetings, including the right to propose, veto, or second a veto of any upcoming contract. Please contact me to inform me you have received this notice. Sincerely yours, Lex Luthor. " _

„I highly doubt the last part. " Bruce crossed his arms.

Dick looked up from the screen. „What do I say? "

„Say yes. And try to make it sound grateful and smug simultaneously. " Bruce advised. „Lex likes people who take initiative. He also likes flattery. "

Dick wrote down a few lines. „How 'bout this? " He turned the screen around.

Bruce gave his work a one over. „Very Good. But perhaps..." He took the keyboard and made a couple of minor changes.

„That will knock him dead. " Dick made a sly smile and send the e-mail.

Not much later a note from the chess forum popped up.

Bruce opened it and grinned despite the loss of a favored piece. He gently pushed an inconspicuous corner pawn one square up, leveled with Luthor's frontline.

_To be continued…_


	12. Chemistry

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Chemistry**

WayneChem lab No3 looked like and other lab in the world: Steel and plastic, animal odor and cleaning agents, neon lights and the hum of ventilation. Standard fare.

"Welcome to our little lab, gentlemen." An unusually tall and lanky Asian greeted Lucius Fox and Bruce Wayne.

The billionaire started toying with his cane immediately upon arrival.

"Here are the results of our study, performed in great detail and conforming to all standards and specifications." The lead researcher offered a thick file.

"Big book. " Bruce looked amused as he hefted the thing. He skimmed through it too fast for reading, successfully pretending to poorly pretend interest.

"Most of it is to say we didn't inflict the injuries on the SPCA animals, and who to go to get confirmation of the fact." The man, explained with some irritation.

"What of the animals, doctor?" Lucius acted as Wayne's proxy.

"Rodents and birds take it better than big mammals." The head researcher led them to the cages. "Faster metabolic rate." He opened a pen and took out a small, hairy dog; showing the bosses its stubble of a paw. "The bigger creatures with slower metabolism need lower, more diluted doses, over longer periods of time, so their recovery is slower."

Bruce gave the creature an obligatory glance, than returned to shifting back and fort through the file, In truth he had actually read half of the important sections and studied the paw in detail.

"And the side effects?" Fox asked.

"Weight loss as expected, but nothing mentally-wise." The man shrugged. "In fact the only change in behavior was for the better. The creatures have warmed up to the lab crew treating them; so much so some have decided to adopt the critters. If that's all right with you?" He asked the two superiors.

"Why not." Bruce answered half-heartedly as he recklessly plopped the file on a cage. He hobbled out seemingly without aim, but was next to the drug samples in two steps.

"And there was no difference between the samples provided and the ones synthesized?" Fox returned the conversation to its course.

Bruce swagged a vial of Lazarus substance, shoved his hand in the pockets and looked about idly.

"None. The drug cocktail is equally effective whether manufactured organically or artificially."

"Always loved a good cocktail." Bruce cut in with a big smirk plastered on his face.

The doctor, in turn, gave him a desired blank stare. "Anyway." He continued. "There should be no problem with mass production." He assured Lucius.

"Doc Lee." A young lab rat rushed into the room, carrying a letter. "This just arrived." He handed the Asian a paper.

With the corner of his eye Bruce caught the young man's too familiar face and the FDA's logo on the letter. He did his best to hide the tension of anxious anticipation.

The doc slipped on a pair of eye-glasses and a smile brightened his features. "We can proceed with human volunteer patients."

"I'll have a box sent to Leslie." Fox looked at Bruce, beaming.

Wayne's cell-phone rang before he could answer. Home base, safe line.

"Wayne here." His face was a non verbal apology.

"It's me." Dick spoke. "I've looked through LexCorp current projects. It looks like they got another job from the DOD, but the description is wanting."

"Do tell." Bruce acted like heard of a good gossip.

"Deadline in two weeks, big money, several subcontractors." Dick listed "Nothing on what is being done or where, though."

Bruce covered the microphone and turned to the other two men. "Excuse me." He looked apologetically and left. "Subcontractors?" Bruce turned dead serious as the elevator doors shut.

"Morgan Industries, PharmaGene, Apex - "

"Ultimen project revisited." Bruce rubbed his forehead.

"Call the league?" Dick was hesitant to ask.

Bruce was silent. "Not yet. I'll see if this can be dealt with quietly."

"If you say so." Dick hoped Bruce made a good call.

"Keep me posted." Bruce closed the phone and stepped out.

He raced to his office in an awkward, fast hobble. Once the laptop was up and running, he plunged into PharmaGene purchasing history. Soon after a smirk appeared on his lips. Dialing a number, Bruce accessed Chromatograph schematics.

A rap o the door came over the soft ringing.

"Enter." Bruce answered, recognising Fox's knocking.

Lucius stepped in just as the ringing stopped.

"Eugene Farmer here." A serious voice greeted.

"Eugene! Bruce here." He sounded marry, gesturing Fox to wait. "I've noticed we've been doing business for quite a while now. Being a loyal customer of WayneTech, you deserve a little pampering."

"What do you have in mind, Bruce?" Eugene Farmer was very interested.

"We'll I'm feeling generous today, so how 'bout a new chromatograph for free, new and improved type. You haven't upgraded yours in years." Bruce opened the machine's software code.

"That would be much appreciated."

"We aim to please." Wayne quoted the old business adage even as he decreased the number of decimals in the resolution variable. "I'll have them your way by Monday." He added, saving the new specs.

"Deal?" Eugene wanted proof of verbal agreement. In business one could never be to sure.

"Deal." Bruce sent the altered model into production under top priority.

"Thank you, Bruce. Goodbye."

"'Bye Eugene." Bruce hung up.

"And that was…?" Fox tilted his head.

"Setting Lex up." Bruce rose and shut the laptop. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to use the little-billionaire's room." He walked out.

As soon as he was in the toilet and safely out of sight, Bruce pulled a Swiss-card from the belt buckle and the vial out from the pocket. Rolling the sleeve up, he made a short, shallow incision next to the forearm vein. The cut closed no sooner than he finished, leaving no scar behind.

Warmth flowed up his vein as the drug boosted the metabolism of the blood-vessel's walls. Reaching the chest, it exploded through his torso in rapid pulses that were his heart-beats. The cracked ribs were consumed in searing heat, Dizziness struck as oxygen moved where it was most needed, which was currently not his brain. Bruce propped himself against the sync and heaved deep, rapid breaths, hyperventilating to compensate. Finally the pain subsided and the warmth flowed down his legs, trickling out of his system. At the ankle it was just a faint pang, almost an afterthought.

Exhausted, Bruce sighed and realized the deep breath didn't hurt. A pleasant novelty in comparison to those from the last few days. He whipped the sweat off his brow, realizing he was soaking wet and able to eat a horse. He leaned on the bad leg and felt no protest from it, than left the cane and made a few steps. He ran series of mental self-tests to see if things were okay upstairs. Everything worked out fine.

Taking the cell phone he speed-dialed Oracle and, expectedly, got the answering machine.

"**Meet me at Mercy Clinic ASAP.**" He used the voice to skip the needlessly long explanation as well as a chance of being refused.

Returning to the hallway with a pretended limp, he faced Fox again. For a split-second Bruce looked like a man caught in the act, but quickly regained composure.

Taking in his appearance, the older man quirked an eyebrow. "Will I have to get you another secretary?" He sounded exasperated.

Bruce's expressions shifted from confused to realizing to cold in a blink of an eye. "No." He retorted. To avoid explanations, or worse, lying to his partner, he decided to change the topic. "The lab assistant resembles Dean Brown."

"WayneChem manager?" Fox frowned. "Nepotism?"

"If we're lucky." His words were a confirmation. "For a man who likes to brag about his mother-in-law's quilts, the fact he failed to mention a blood relative's college degree is telling." Bruce elaborated. "Check company records while I interview him. Maybe he slips up when talking to an airhead."

"I'll look into it. Also the medicine is on the way." Fox informed.

Bruce nodded and turned to the elevator again.

"Speaking of which, you should work on the limp."

Bruce paused but soon continued, this time letting his 'bad' leg drag a bit more.

_To be continued…_


	13. Comeback

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Comeback**

The clinic waiting room left Bruce with conflicting feelings. He was pleased to see the majority of patients came here ill, not injured. The one place where evidence of his success could be seen clearly, no one wanted to go to. And though he would never admit, not even to himself, the place also devastated him. Feigning obliviousness, he still felt their eyes on him, glances stolen when they thought he couldn't see them. Looks of jealousy and disdain from people he did everything to help. The friendly, naive smile he carried felt more a mask here than any other time he wore it.

„Bruce, we were just waiting for you." Leslie called from the exam room. „Barbara said you called her here and Fox had a box of medicine I've never heard of brought over. What is going on?"

Still pretending at injury, Bruce hobbled over, briefcase in hand. Barbara sat by the window, watching him take two documents from his case. He gave the good doctor a copy of both the research paper and letter.

Barbara peeked at the document while Leslie skimmed through it. Her eyes shot wide at the words 'total nerve-cell regeneration'.

Having read the paper summary and letter, Leslie crossed her arms defiantly, „I will not have you use the poor and the desperate as guinea pigs. I though you were above that, Bruce." She was sorely disappointed in him. „Far above it."

„You wouldn't, and I am." He answered honestly. „I have already been the first test subject, and I'm neither poor nor desperate."

„You what?" Both women gasped.

„Tested myself first." Bruce repeated. „The motto is: 'We don't make what we don't use', remember."

„And it worked?"

„The ribs and ankle have healed completely. Examine me." He tossed the jacket aside

She shook her head. „You can fake it, suppress pai-"

„X-ray him." Barbara cut in, hoping against hope.

Bruce immediately took to removing his shirt. He paused no sooner than undoing the two top buttons. It was gone. The knife-wound scar over his chest wasn't there. Nor the memento of gunshot to his side. It was all gone. Bruce looked up befuddled, meeting two equally stunned faces.

„I don't think I'll have to." Leslie said in a low tone.

„I'm trying it out." Barbara was confident, her eyes still fixed on Wayne's empty skin.

„Put her in a gown and on a bed. I'll get the supplies." Bruce bee-lined to the storage, buttoning up as he ran. „We'll need to mix the medication with dextrose for on the spot energy." He picked an IV pack and a vial in one; and an injection in the other hand. He returned just when Barbara finished changing.

The youth took a deep breath like an athlete before a competition. „I'm ready."

„It's best to deliver the medication as close to the injury as possible, otherwise some of it will be spent on the in-between tissue."

„Reversed spinal fluid biopsy." Leslie already selected the best procedure. „Anything else."

„One part drug, nine parts dextrose." Bruce elaborated as he injected the vial substance into the IV pack and than took out a cc of the diluted fluid. „She might need an oxygen mask, but probably not." He handed the injection to Leslie.

„Right." The doctor tapped the needle and squirted a drop, than pat Barbara on the shoulder. „Lie down on the side, curl up in a fetal pose and hold your knees tightly." She directed.

Bruce mused for a moment. „Mind if I provide some analgesia?"

„Feel free to try." Leslie shrugged while sterilizing the lower back.

„Close your eyes, Babs" Bruce spoke in a soft tone.

„Okay." Her expression still showed fear.

„Relax. Breathe in to the count of two, hold your breath for a beat, breath out to the count of three. Start by breathing out. Ready?"

She nodded.

„One, two, hold. One two three, in... out... in... out..."

Her expression turned calm. Bruce made a nod to the doctor. The needle made its way in. Barbara bunched her jaw and sucked the breath in.

„It's in." Leslie gave her a gentle squeeze on the forearm. „It shouldn't hurt any more." Having slowly emptied the content she pulled the needle out and placed a band „Done."

The youth sighed her relief.

„Feel anything?" He asked.

Barbara frowned with her eyes closed, listening in on her body. „The puncture feels kinda warm."

„Legs?" Leslie pulled a pen-tip over the sole of one foot.

Barbara paused. „Nothing..." She muttered disappointedly.

„It takes time." Bruce encouraged, though looking no better than she felt.

„Seeing how you will never be ready in time for the ball." Alfred cut in from the storage. „I took it upon myself to deliver your clothes here." He took three clothing bags from a travel bag: a youthful dress, a serious gown and a classy suit.

„You sir, will change in there." He shoved Bruce his attire and pointed at the small toilet. „Manners and all that." He added half-heartedly.

Turning to the women, Alfred whisked out two make-up sets. „Yours." He answered their questioning faces. „Don't ask."

Before either one could react, Bruce stepped out, miraculously changed. „I'll leave you two to dress up." He said without giving them a look as he left the clinic the same way his butler came in.

Alfred stared at his confident stride. „He healed already?"

„He did." Leslie was not entirely approving of it.

In the limo, Bruce called Q. „**Update.**"

„It's real and located at an old LexCorp spare-parts warehouse just outside Metropolis." The paranoid man said without needles elaboration.

„**What happens in two weeks?"**

„Two weeks exactly – nothing. Two weeks three days – the presidential debate. You think Lex will-"

„**...bring up the Lords?**" Bruce finished. „**Definitely. He'll stir the spirits, use the missile to force the League's hand, make it look like they attacked first and retaliate with public support.**" _And Cadmus' ultimen - new and improved._ He thought.

„I was going to say floor them." Q said, sounding as insignificant as his insight.

„**That's a non-question.**" Bruce was cold. „**He'll make the reasonable moderates look like naive sissies. Receive more support for it.**"

„What do we do?" Q was concerned.

„**Prevent it.**" Bruce sounded as it was peace of cake. „**Discredit him and disable the missile before the debate. Preferably on the same day.**"

„So he doesn't have time to respond." Q understood.

„**Precisely.**"

„How do we do it?"

„**I'll call you when I make contingency plans. You will dismantle it on the spot, I will take care of the reputation.**" Bruce hung up.

„Brucy's reputation?" Barbara wheeled to the limousine.

„Exactly." He helped the women inside. „Alfred, Gotham Plaza please."

No sooner than they drove off, Barbara looked down in shock. „My shoes..." she stammered. „They're too tight."

Leslie stared. Alfred nearly lost control of the vehicle. And Bruce swallowed a lump the size of Everest.

**­**_To be continued..._


	14. Acting

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Acting**

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the third annual Hera women's shelter charity ball." Diana began in clear voice. "They say once is an accident, twice a coincidence and three times a conspiracy. I hope you will join us in our conspiracy to make Gotham a safer city by helping lessen at least one of its many underlying causes. Was ask nothing of you but a little generosity. For each donation, you will be rewarded with a dance with either myself or my co-host Mr. Wayne." She gestured in his direction.

With a comedian's grin, he added. „What she said." while thumbing at her.

The audience laughed insincerely, accustomed to his role of comic relief.

"But first." Bruce put up a finger. "Since I already made a donation, and a big one at that, I get to dance with her first." He winked and got another bout of fake laughter.

"Music please." Bruce requested and an easy modern waltz began, one he personally requested, without telling her the piece was named 'My immortal.'

He led her to the dance floor with the first beats, posturing like a playboy showing off his latest conquest.

As the music picked up, he turned into an almost perfect gentleman, showing interest with the most subtle of gestures, all but invisible to the people around. Diana played along; thinking it was just him holding up appearances before the other socialites. Bruce himself was not so sure. Flirting with the others always felt like setting up a trap, leading the women on and than discarding them moments before delivering his promise. But with her there was none of it, just a worry that she wouldn't reply in kind. The thought of long unvisited territory scared him somewhat. When the song finished he didn't know weather to be sad or relieved.

The donors, and therefore dance partners, were known before the ball, so at least neither of them got any unpleasant surprises. But after a dance with Diana, all the overt flirting felt forced. Void even of the joy of a cunning strategist watching his plan unfold as desired. Worst still, he wasn't even good at it, for his eyes drifted to Diana, revealing his advances faked. And depending on Diana's reaction to her partners, his feelings shifted between jealousy and a need to squash whoever was currently making her uncomfortable, the latest of whom was Lex with his leering.

At the first pause, Bruce sprayed a hefty dose of alcohol-based breath freshener, and bee-lined to Luthor and his anterage.

"Lex!" Bruce blundered into the small circle of guests. "How're you doing, old buddy?" His breath reeked.

Lex immediately found himself alone with Bruce, abandoned by the company he kept.

"Business as usual, my friend." He gave the neutral reply, trying not to give away his scheme with a winner's grin.

"I heard you sold some shares. Are you having trouble?" Bruce sounded genuinely concerned. „You should find yourself a good manager." He started dispensing advice before Lex could answer. "My Fox is a great guy, maybe he could find one for you."

"No, thank you, Bruce." Lex was patronizing. "I like to handle my company personally."

"Suit yourself." Bruce shrugged. "But _my_ shares have gone up double in the last month."

"Good for you." Lex smiled and a hint of that predatory character shone through.

"No date, huh?" Bruce noticed. „I'll find you one." He looked about.

„You really don't have to." Lex ground out.

„Nonsense." Bruce waved. „It'll be like college all over again."

Lex snickered. „Some of us have grown up. Wayne."

"And you're too serious for your own good." Bruce quipped, but counting himself among 'them' anyway. „C'mon..." He grabbed Luthor by the forearm, ignoring the comment. „For old time sake."

The percussions marked the start of a new song and thus the end of the pause.

"Saved by the bell." Luthor smiled sympathetically, and watched Bruce walk to a yet another prospecting socialite. "Idiot." He muttered.

Bruce grinned, glad to know Lex never once suspected a counter on his part, whispering: "Sucker."

Several hours and dozens of dancers later, Bruce confidently strode to his last partner and spun her into his arms. "You're lucky to have me before midnight, beauty."

Facing him, Nikki returned the predatory gaze and smirked: Why handsome? You'll turn into a pumpkin?"

"Beast is more like it." He swayed to the salsa rhythm.

"Nice moves." She complimented some time into the dance.

Bruce made a sly smile. "You've seen nothing yet."

She didn't break eye contact. "Will I?"

Pulling closer he whispered. "Why not."

As the music faded to a new number, the two left the dance floor. Bruce made sure plenty of people saw him leave with Nikki in tow, but also that Diana was not one of them.

Giggles preceded the noise of clumsy unlocking, and the two stumbled into a hotel room he reserved prior the dance.

"Why don't I go freshen up." Nikki's voice broke as she pulled away from the embrace.

"You do that." Bruce smirked and settled comfortably on the sofa.

Returning from the toilet, she found him sprawled and snoring. The gentle prods only resulted in annoyed grunts and moans.

"Shame you can't hold your booze, Wayne" Nikki sighed. "We could have been something."

As the doors closed, Bruce risked a one-eyed sweep of the room. He was alone. Having slipped a 'do not disturb' sign on the knob, he made a mess of the place. Satisfied with its appearance of a scene of a wild, promiscuous after-party, Bruce pulled a thick briefcase from under the bed. Unlocking it, he removed the Kevlar suit and utility belt, quickly changing into his grim alter ego. Opening a window, he took off in a flutter of black.

**­**_To be continued..._


	15. Knight

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Knight**

Flying over Gotham, the Bat caught sight of the new lamps. Being of the eco variety, their aluminum foiled top reflected upward light back down, lighting the streets better and not lighting the facades at all. That was supposed to make the criminal's sneaking and hiding harder while making his own stealth attacks form above easier.

Getting the mayor to install them was a lobbying nightmare. It was a big investment, but money ultimately prevailed. The new lamps' huge drop in energy consumption, due in part to LED bulbs, translated into an equal drop in expenditures. Bruce was sure Hamilton pocketed the profits, but that was a battle for another time. Right now he heard a familiar, despised phrase.

"You don't want something to happen to the shop, do you?" A man with a thick accent spoke casually.

Turning a distant corner, the Bat noticed a thirty-something Asian, flanked by two younger ones, corner a fourth, middle aged one, at the gates of a sushi bar.

"I-i-e." stammered the bar owner.

"Speak up, fish-san." The racketeer pressed on.

Bat's eyes tuned to slits. The punk didn't even recognize the simple reply as a 'no'.

_Time to test the lamp theory. _He thought.

Both henchmen suddenly dropped to the floor, followed by two dull-edged 'rangs. The lead racketeer pulled out a gun and spun around. Aiming high, he flashed the thing from side to side. Glaring lights made the world beyond them a featureless void.

"**Honba.**" The Bat ordered from above.

The racketeer shot in his direction. Noise of breaking glass told he missed. An alarm went off.

"Kami..." The bar owner muttered in shock.

**Tachisaru!**"

"Hai." The older man nodded and took off.

The younger one fired again, bullet zinging against an unseen fire-escape.

"Come out and fight, rat-man!" He shouted, panic dawning over his features.

A rustle broke the tense silence, and a black shroud fell between the thug and his escaping would be victim. The racketeer turned, only to have his armed hand gripped in mid swing. The gun fired and struck the light but the glass casing remained intact, making the racketeer stare in disbelief.

Bat twisted his wrist kotegaeshi-style and the gun fell.

"**Thought I left?" **The Bat whispered menacingly to the man's ear. "**Just because you can't see me doesn't mean I'm not around.**" He twisted the wrist further. "**Send a message to Iwara. Tell him this: **_**I'm**_** the boss, this is **_**my**_** turf and **_**I**_** provide protection.**" The small bones churned out of place.

Wracked in fear and pain, the man managed a rapid nod. A swing to the nape knocked him out just as the sirens approached. The Bat broke the gun against the wall and deftly slipped deep into an alley. In seconds the police parked at the sight and officers took to assessing the unconscious men.

Bullock, the senior officer present, whistled loudly. "Hey, Rick, radio chief Montoya. Tell 'er the Bat is back. He got 'em Japs busted." Noticing the narrow alley, more a slit between two buildings, Harvey walked off. "Lock 'em up boys, I'll go have a chat with the shadows." Reaching the alley mouth, He decided squeezing in would be a bad idea. "He aint gonna be usin' that hand any more." Harvey spoke into the air, looking nowhere in particular.

"**That was the intention." ­**The Bat moved into view. His hips absorbed the faint rock of walking motion and the cape's shadow concealed his legs. It looked like he was a shadow blending out of darkness, hovering like an apparition.

Bullock gulped, as the sight still freaked out the big oaf. Small wonder thugs thought the Bat a demon. "Got anything for us or just hanging?" The cop made a weak attempt at humor to diffuse the situation.

A steel look bordering on The Glare was Bat's sole reply.

"We'll Mirandize 'em…" Harvey threw a glance at the racketeers. "…and..." He paused.

The Bat was gone.

"Yeah, you too." Bullock muttered to the empty street and walked away.

The Bat smirked from the lamp post over the cops head. He stood there until the cars left, than continued with patrolling the Narrows and beyond. The rest of the night was just as slow. Fifteen minutes before civil dawn, he dropped by the police headquarters. The commissioner was already on his roof, obligatory cigar in hand.

"I hear you caught Iwara's gofers." Jim spoke to a black-on-black silhouette.

"half-ass third generation sansei." Bruce answered in normal voice. "Don't even speak Japanese."

"He must be getting desperate."

Bruce didn't deny it.

"Bullock tells me he found a bullet that bounced off a lamp?" Gordon changed the subject.

"Shatterproof casing." Bruce confirmed. "Something extra just for the Narrows. On my tab." He added.

"So what is the verdict on the lamps?" Jim was curious to see their flaws listed.

"Above and beyond expectations." The answer was totally out of character.

"What happened to you?" Jim jerked his head back in surprise.

"I saw a lone woman at two am; walked half a mile down Cryme avenue, from the East End underground station to her apartment building, and nothing in her body language gave any indication of fear."

Gordon whistled.

"Exactly."

The two stood silent on the ledge for a while, until Jim broke the silence. "The stars are out tonight."

"Less light pollution." Bruce explained. "Another perk of the lamps." He took note of the Watchtower racing through Ophiucius the snake holder, and wondered what was now happening up there.

Jim too was lost in stargazing. "Nice sight." He finally commented.

There was no reply, for there was no one there to give it. Somehow the escape-act no longer stunned the old commissioner.

Leaving the police station, Bruce turned straight for the WayneTower. He arrived at the penthouse just in time to see his city at dawn. It was an uplifting sight and there in the soft morning glow Bruce allowed himself a moment of hope.

_To be continued…_


	16. Allies

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Allies**

_­_With first morning light, Bruce stepped into the penthouse. The place was equipped with all necessary installations, a bare minimum of traditional creature comfort but also the latest technology. If the indulgent billionaire resided in the manor, the utilitarian soldier bunked here. Just as he opened the secret passage to the armory, the phone rang. The line called was one reserved for his nocturnal persona, and thus known only to a select few.

"Yes?" He spoke tiredly into the speaker in his normal tone, needing no introduction.

"Please come to the garage, sir." A stranger's voice spoke.

_SHIT! _His eyes snapped wide with shock. He slammed the speaker-phone off and raced out.

He was underground in record time. Sneaking into the garage, he faced an unbelievable sight.

A hundred or so average Gothamites waited in the parking lot that was supposed to be empty. They were men and women, from youths to elders, coming form every social class and walks of life. The only thing they had in common was him.

Looking out from the safety of shadow, he recognized each face. A hot-dog vendor he freed from police 'protection' well over ten years back. A well situated young man in whose business he invested, and whose son he stopped from becoming a criminal. A woman who he saved from a rapist, now nurse at Leslie's clinic. The medic that regularly patched him up while Bat, who currently benefited his scholarship donations...

Will Adams, senior IT engineer for Wayne Enterprise, who Bruce personally employed, looked about the shadows.

Walking slowly, he called out. "You can come out, Mr. Wayne." His tone was friendly. "Sir we all know your identity for quite a while now, have concluded it on our own eventually. If we wanted to use it against you, we would have already." He tried to reassure Bruce. "Not that we ever would."

Hesitating, Bruce walked froth, taking the cowl off. The crowd paused stiff at first, but soon gathered around, giving him several feet space.

"The butler did it." Adams tried to diffuse the tension. "He said you keep count on the lost ones, but he kept record of the saved ones, people you helped over the years." He explained. "A few days ago he contacted me, requesting that I organize them because you need help."

"You owe me nothing." Bruce spun around, enraged by the thought.

The crowd parted.

"You can't refuse what isn't offered to you." Adams spoke with authority.

Confused, Bruce paused.

"We're not doing this for you. We're doing it for our city." The man replied.

A rumble of agreements rose from the crowd. Bruce shot him the toughest glare he could muster. The man didn't budge. When Bruce walked up to him, Adams offered a blank check which he inspected with a glance. Gothamites co, a dummy company undoubtedly, was willing to pay Bruce Wayne an unlimited amount of money. Bruce blinked, wondering if he fell asleep on patrol.

"All one thousand, two hundred and forty seven benefactors of your fund have agreed to finance whatever battle is underway." Adams explained. "If we have to indebt ourselves for life - fine. Present company is also willing to perform any task we are able, dangerous and illegal ones included."

Dozens of heads all around them bobbed their agreement.

Bruce looked up from the check. The gesture was much appreciated, but… "No."

"Fine." Adams shrugged. "We'll just ask Mr. Fox than."

Bruce closed his eyes and sighed. He was too tired to think of a reasonable argument. _Damn meddling butler..._ He didnt know if he wanted to puch Alfred or hug him like did when he was ten.

"Alright." Bruce near whispered. "Alright." The voice was louder now, steady. "Starting tomo-" He paused. God, he couldn't even think straight any more. "today, LexCorp shares will go on the market in packages. Buy them all." He looked around. "Buy them as individuals, not as a group." Bruce warned and headed for the service elevator, people moving out of his way.

"Anything else?" Adams offered.

Bruce shot him a look. "You can tell the old sod he's fired." He huffed and the pod took off.

_To be continued..._


	17. Juggling

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Juggling**

Not having a decent workout in a week, Bruce left the gym sweaty, messy, tired and in an endorphin high. He cut for the sparsely furnished bathroom and did a quick, navy-style shower as the radio bleeped its announcement of the mid-day news.

The first to catch his attention was a report on the League's latest mission, or rather lack of mention that the dark knight was not around. He chalked it up to recovery time of crash-landing a plane and moved on with the routine. Next came results from the pre-election poll, the numbers did not bode well. Wanting a breath of fresh air, the people obviously preferred Lutor, an independent, over the all but stagnant alternatives. That was without mentioning his implicitly anti-League rhetoric. It's amazing how many allusions to Dark Heart one could make without ever uttering the words. Bruce was tempted to thank whatever powers may be for the fact the populace was ignorant of the Doomsday incident.

Lex was a smooth criminal. Had his words been spoken by anyone else, Bruce would be tempted to agree, but he knew better than to buy into Luthor's alleged reformation. Second chances and blind trust were Clark's department, he had a takeover to foil.

Entering the kitchen, he shot the stove with a killer glare. A milk bottle waited on the counter from before bedtime, to warm up without use of stove. 'Be prepared' may be the boy scout motto, but it was Wayne who lived it. Meanwhile, the news finished with a prognosis of more dry weather. Bruce frowned with an unpleasant hunch that, oddly enough, turned into a sly smile. Perhaps business and pleasure could mix after all.

Bruce took the cereals to the bedroom, grinning at the thought of an appalled Alfred. He sat on the sheet-covered mattress, the single object in the room, and grabbed the cutting edge PDA. Chowing down, he checked for messages.

Barbara called to say she scheduled treatment at the clinic under the pretense of volunteering. The excuse was that being Oracle left her wanting social interaction. She wanted Bruce too keep mum about it, especially in regards to her father and Dick. He was more than happy to oblige.

Believing Bruce to be not entirely healed, Dick had a cow after spotting him on patrol. Bruce did not dignify the rant with a reply.

Fox had several things to report:

Examination of Dean Brown returned more than was hoped for. WayneChem manager was shifting cash from project to project. The practice was intently discouraged within the company because it was susceptible to the very thing Dean was doing - continently loosing a penny here and there in the process. Daly.

Bruce fumed, but only for a moment. Some things were going as planned.

All reaming small-scale WayneTech shareholders were contacted and offered re-buying. All agreed. Lex in turn upped his offer. The bidding begun.

Bruce grinned and opened the chess program. His knight took an isolated pawn and forked the opponent's queen and advancing bishop. Seeing AlexanderTheGreat retreat to change strategy, the sly smile widened.

Finally, he selected Diana from the address book.

„_Your highness."_ Bruce opted for the formal approach. _„It is unfortunate we did not have more time to socialize during the charity ball. It would do me a great honor if you were to join me for dinner tonight. If you are interested, confirm that you will be ready tonight at 10pm East Coast Time at a location of your preference. Urban evening dress code required, event - surprise."_ He chose to pique her curiosity. _„Sincerely yours, Bruce Wayne."_

With the meal finished and mail sent, Bruce stapled his fingers in thought. There was one more contingency to make. Entering into the penthouse armory, he took a disc from a safe behind the suit, a secret compartment within a secret compartment.

The contents of the disc were a few sizable and meaningful files. He reached to open the first one, cryptically dubbed Alcatraz, but stopped in mid double-click. The pointer hovered above the icon, but Bruce hesitated. Opening it would mark crossing the point of no return. If used, it would cause him to loose everything gained in the last few years of the league's existence. Worst, it would cause him to loose Diana.

Bruce closed his eyes and sighed.

When he opened them again they were colder than ice and harder than steel. The city's needs came first, Diana's feelings second. His own held the rear of a very long line. Contingencies had to be made, especially the grimmest ones.

Bruce opened the file and stared at the detailed schematics of the BatLord's meta-prison. His eyes narrowed in thought, scrutinizing the prison. He opened a new file, entitled 'Trap'.

Hours later, he had devised a way to catch any and all core leaguers without injury and made several upgrades to the prison. Should things go less than perfect, Bruce would be able to prevent the league from causing an incident by attacking the presidential candidate.

Just as he saved the work, the alarm clock bleeped its warning. Bruce stored the disc in its place and changed the T shirt and sweat pants for a suit kept here just in case. Dressed up, he descended one floor down to the executive's level. It was time to drain Lex bone dry.

_To be continued..._


	18. Bargain

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Bargain**

Bruce met Dick in front of Lucius' office, the youth's face a scowl.

"Good morning to you too." Bruce rapped the office door and immediately opened it.

Dick merely followed him in.

Fox rose in greeting, closing some kind of progress chart. "Good Morning, sirs."

"'Morning." The two replied as they took their seats.

"Have the shareholders responded?" Bruce asked in his direct manner.

"All thirteen of them, sir." Came the polite reply. "Let's hope the number is lucky this time."

"Luck has nothing to do with this, Lucius." Bruce almost berated the man. "We will make him pay dearly for every remaining share."

"You are certain he will not drop out?" Fox leveled his reading glasses.

Bruce shook his head. "He has already acquired 45 percent. Stopping now would be a waste of money, his own shares and hence two points at any board of directors vote."

Nodding his understanding, Fox accessed their Wall Street broker. "Shall we?"

"Not yet." Dick suddenly cut in, glaring daggers at Bruce. "Before we go through with the plan, I want you to promise me something."

"Name it." Bruce replied without a moment's thought.

"You will retire from active service at 50."

"Not on my life." Wayne shot back just as quickly.

Dick closed his eyes. "That's what I fear, Bruce." When he opened them again, their intensity matched Wayne's own. "And that's why I will not cooperate unless you make that promise. In writing."

"You would endanger the mission?" Bruce hissed, reminding the kid of the implications.

"Yes." Dick was defiant. "You care more for the city's wellbeing than your own. With this I am equating the two. You either retire in a decade, safe in the knowledge the city will be taken care of, or you retire right now, and all your accomplishments go down the drain."

Bruce stared at him with scrutinizing eyes. "Seventy." He demanded, recalling Virgil fight well into old age. "Expected police retirement age in thirty years."

"Fifty five." Dick accepted the haggle. "SWAT service benefits."

"Sixty five." Bruce drove a hard bargain. "I'm not an average SWAT."

"Sixty. I don't want to take over the mantle a day over forty."

Bruce stood up with his hand extended. "Deal."

Dick rose to shake his hand. "Mr. Fox, have that in writing before the last bid. Until than, you are my whiteness to a verbal contract." He held his gaze locked firmly with Wayne's.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Grayson." Fox smiled broadly and the men sat down again.

"Give the second offer." Bruce nodded the go-ahead.

Another fifty thousand were offered to the remaining shareholders. Within minutes, LexCorp replied with ten. The bid went up gradually, each offer lower than the last, until LexCorp raises dwindled to mere hundreds of dollars.

Bruce lifted his hand. "One hundred over all points, and one hundred only."

Lex dropped the offer on the eight smaller shareholders by half, shifting resources to the top five.

"Follow suit." Bruce commanded. "Match him dollar for dollar."

"One million dollars." Fox announced their limit.

Bruce did a cutting mime. "No more."

"He has topped our offers by fifty dollars at all points." Fox informed. "Ownership of WayneTech: Bruce Wayne 49 percent, Lex Luthor, 49 percent, Private shareholders, eight, 2 percent."

"Proceed with plan in two days." Bruce spoke calmly. "Increase the frequency of bids as the two-week deadline nears. Limit increase one million per round, give or take a hundred thousand, with final limit of eight point seventy five million. We must give the appearance of panic and last ditch effort."

"All warfare is deception." Dick quoted Sun Tzu.

"Precisely." Bruce replied. "Allow him to win every bid. We will force him to sell more and more of his shares to acquire resources to buy ours."

"…while we merely recycle our resources." Fox delighted in their plan.

Bruce stood up. "One more thing…"

"Already fired." Fox anticipated his request.

"Remind the other managers of company policy, just in case." Bruce added. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a butler to discipline."

_To be continued..._


	19. Family

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Family**

"You wanted to see me Master Wayne?" The elderly chauffer entered Wayne's office.

Bruce stood rod-straight. "What were you thinking?" He hissed in a low tone and leaned across the desk. "You risked **everything**."

"I did no such thing, sir." Alfred kept his calm. "All the people involved already knew you as a competent and well-intended business man. I have also made sure to contact a person who I found out to have already linked your personas."

"How?"

"I _was_ a secret agent once, sir." Alfred reminded. "Senility has not yet set in. What I'm saying, sir, is, if the man already knew and did nothing about it, he would do even less if approached in trust. Though when I asked him to confront you in person I didn't have the garage scene in mind."

"You're saying ambushing me when I'm too tired to resist was _his_ plan?"

"You did hire the man for his intelligence, did you not?" 'As did I' was left unsaid but was still communicated.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. Same dilemma again: hug him or strangle him. Why not both? "I have a portfolio worth ten million for reserve. It's yours."

"Sir?"

"Consider it a reward for the stunt you pulled."

Alfred was insulted by the mere thought he did this for money. "I need no such thing, Master Wayne." His tone was dignified to the end.

"Yes you do." Bruce tried to steel his tone but couldn't. "You are fired." Came out bland.

"We'll it's a good thing we're family than." Alfred bounced back as if the words meant nothing. "Because you'd never find service this discreet, son."

Bruce froze at the word. "Alfred..." He barely managed. "…don't call me master again. _Ever._"

The old man nodded with a smile. "Very good."

They locked eyes conveyed more than words ever could.

"About that portfolio..." Alfred began. "I believe someone else would be more fitting."

Bruce knew exactly the man's idea. "Owner or broker?" He was open to the advice.

"Broker." Alfred returned.

Bruce nodded his agreement. Only than did he notice the led blinking tirelessly on the intercom. "Yes, Miss Biggs?"

"Your associates have arrived, sir."

"Thank you, Sarah, send them in." He stated calmly and watched Alfred open the office doors. Some habits were hard to abandon.

The Gordon and Leslie entered first, followed by Dick wheeling in Barbara while Fox held the rear. The juniors weren't part of the original make up, and this was their first official meeting. They had their fair share of 'rehearsals' though.

After watching Godfather, Dick had humorously dubbed them the anti-family. Organized crime-fighters with a conspiracy to help the little guy. The kid had no idea how right he was.

"Please sit down." Bruce gestured to the lounge area. As they settled, he activated a projector from the laptop.

"We have a situation." He sat down and stapled his fingers, leaning forth in the chair. "You are all familiar with the Lord's invasion and Luthor's anti-league policy." He glanced over their faces, receiving nods and 'yes'-es in reply. "His determination with destroying the League has gone so far that he procured a kryptonite missile."

Fox frowned. "Why are you telling us this?"

Bruce looked out the window. "There have been signs that the League may be following in the Lord's footsteps."

The silence was tense.

"I have devised a simple, straightforward way to sabotage Lutor's plan and prevent that, if only for now. Two reliable associates are already briefed on what to do." He informed. "They will execute the counter when I give the go-ahead. Before that can be done, preparations must be made for a number of backup plans. The deadline is two weeks, but the sooner the better."

"So what's the plan?" Gordon cut to the core.

Bruce turned to the large empty wall that now served as projection canvas. As he led them through the stages, they scrutinized the plan and informed of its costs, both in terms of time, money, labor and other resources. An hour later, everything had been agreed upon. Those able, rose and shook hands as if settling a deal. Having escorted the visitors out, the three men of Wayne manor remained in silence.

Bruce turned to Alfred. "Could you..."

"Certainly." The old man knowingly excused himself.

"What is it?" Dick was tense, expecting another, even more secret contingency.

Bruce did not ease his nerves when he reached for the concealed safe. "Here." He pulled out a leather-bound notebook. "Ten million in shares, bonds and cash." He held it out to a wide-eyed Dick.

The youth sobered up. "No." He looked at Bruce with certainty. "I'll handle my funds, but I'm not taking anything from you."

"Oh, you won't be taking them." Bruce waved him off. "You will be managing them for me."

Dick quirked an eyebrow.

"Practice before taking the reins of a multi-billion corporation." Bruce explained. "Fox will be at your disposal as advisor but every call is ultimately yours. If in one year you bring me profit, I'll give you more to handle. If you lose..."

Dick took the notebook finally and opened to see the account's history. He pulled a classy pen from the fold. "Yours." He held it up.

Bruce stared at the high quality utensil, complete with a dull letter-opener on the other side. "_The pen is mightier than the sword."_ His father's words echoed in memory. A memory of a lesson in why homework was more important than Zorro. It was a lesson he took to heart and passed on, insisting grades came before patrol. Of all things Bruce inherited, none were more important.

"Keep it."

Dick took note of his surrogate father's expression and tone, understanding the importance of the gesture. He returned the pen to its place and clasped the notebook. "I appreciate it."

_To be continued…_


	20. Facets

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Facets**

The instant the elevator doors slid shut, Bruce moved to changing his appearance. He took the jacket off in a rush and shoved it in Dick's hands.

„What's on fire?" The youth chuckled at his fast, clumsy tie removal.

_Nothing if I can help it._ Bruce thought unbuttoning the dress shirt. He traded the garment for the jacket, now sporting a black muscle shirt and dark blue pants. "I'm late." As the elevator pinged he shrugged the jacket back on .

Dick followed him out into the garage "Where to?"

"Dinner." He strode to Alfred, waiting by the black Murcielago, "Everything ready?"

The old man offered Bruce the keys. "To the last detail."

"Thanks." He snatched them and took the driver's seat, the door closing behind him.

"Feeding the tabloids again, eh?" Dick teased.

Bruce took a few items from the glove compartment. "Panem et circenses." He reminded, gelling his hair back with use of the rearview mirror. Slipping on a pair of sleek shades he completed the fop look.

As the engine roared the two men lifted their hands in farewell. Returning the gesture, Bruce drove off. Within minutes he was approaching the aforementioned crossroad, and noticed a familiar beauty walk round the corner.

"Hello, princess." He pulled to a stop next to her. "Care for a ride." At the press of a button, the door rose like a spreading wing.

Diana walked over. "Where to, knight?"

"Tonight?" He quipped. "Just dinner." Bruce watched her take the seat next to him, than kissed her hand. "Tomorrow…"

For a split second Diana thought she saw his eyes flash dangerously. "You always expect success?" She teased.

"A man has to hope." Shrugging nonchalantly, Bruce turned the key and the engine purred to life.

Diana shook her head at his indirect cockiness, but still blushed a shade.

They drove long enough for her to notice he chose the scenic route. Eventually the car stopped in front of a little Japanese place between downtown and the East End. Through the half-closed blinds, the staff could be seen preparing to close shop.

"One moment, please." He stepped out, coming to stand at the doorstep, waiting patiently.

Diana watched him attain permission to enter from the owner, acting uncharacteristically humbly. From the rhythm of it, Diana recognized the language as Japanese, but could not make out individual words, let alone understand them.

After a deep bow, Bruce returned in a confident gait. "Akashi-san was kind enough to give us a few more hours." He helped her out.

"Are you always this demanding on your subjects, _sir_ Wayne." She used his 'knighthood' against him.

"We agreed on a satisfactory compensation." He took the jab in stride, ushering her in.

"Money isn't everything." Diana let him take her jacket.

"I should know." Bruce looked at her affectionately, lending her a hand with the bar stool. In a little more Japanese, he arranged a full five-course dinner of whatever the chef suggests.

Waiting for the meal, Brice popped a rice cookie in his mouth. Diana in turn held the warm cup of sake to her face, sniffing it suspiciously. She took a small testing sip.

"What do you think?" He asked in genuine interest.

Diana looked at the drink warming her hands. "I think it should be colder and bubbly."

Bruce chuckled. "Fair enough."

The chef paced two bowls of thick miso soup in front of them. Bruce used the chop-sticks expertly while Diana chose to sip. As she looked about the place, eyes shifting from one strange decorative object to another, her face was a question. She noticed his moved over those same items with recognition and perhaps nostalgia.

The radio whispered late-night news from the kitchen, dropping a bombshell on their date in the form of one name: Luthor.

"I wonder what's his problem." Diana mumbled angrily.

"He's jealous." Bruce spoke between mouthfuls. "Wants to be a cape."

"A non-powered one? Like those Bat clan guys?" She was careful in her wording. "I wonder what creature he'd pick…?"

"Apparently a bald eagle."

Soup squirt out her nose. "You _want_ me to choke?" she giggled.

He looked at her caringly. "I want you to not worry."

Plates of tuna sushi replaced their empty bowls. Diana reached for the chopsticks this time, fumbled a while and gave up on the traditional method. Using one stick as extra-long, dull toothpick, she plucked the bite-sized bits of tender meat. Her innocent straightforwardness coaxed a smile to his lips.

"Chameleon." She took another bite.

"Sorry?"

„You're not...that." Her pinky pointed at his signet ring. The bold 'W' resembled a stylized bat. „Maybe on the streets, but you change with the environment. Appearance, behavior, even language. A peacock at the parties, a monkey in the board room…"

"Dose Vixen know she has competition?" His eyes laughed with amusement.

Diana chuckled.

Bruce sobered. "What if I'm more like Q?" He looked at her dead serious. "Anything in appearance is in essence nothing."

She studied him carefully, especially the eyes, windows to the soul. He was definitely not nothing. "A face can have a million expressions but it's still the same face."

In reply, Bruce offered Diana his hand and she took it, squeezing slightly.

Suddenly he froze, hand raised in a demand for silence. "Footsteps." He glanced in the direction of the back alley, sniffed. "Kerosene."

_To be continued…_


	21. Fire

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Fire**

In the moment it took to blink, the chef missed both his patrons exit, Diana flying directly though the kitchen and Bruce sprinting to the car. Taking the matte black bundle he whispered. "Hide." As the roadster rolled out on the quietly humming electro motor, its owner raced a flight of fire escape stairs just as silently. In darkness above the streetlights, he changed clothes in a rush, watching her seek out the would be arsonist.

Diana found the perp to be not a day over twenty. Grabbing him by the collar, she pressed him into the wall. "Go. Home." Her voice was a powder keg waiting to blow.

Unable to utter a sound, the youth nodded panicky. When she dropped him into a puddle of fuel of his own making he took of with the speed that would put Flash to shame.

Just than, the dark knight swooped down before Diana. "**Who invited you?**"

"Bruce Wayne, as a matter of fact." She walked up to him with confidence.

"**Than leave with the coward.**" The Bat suggested, his voice icy. "**NOW.**" His arm flashed in the direction of the bay.

Unimpressed, Diana pushed on, her face an inch from his. "If you can't appreciate help, you don't deserve it." She stated calmly and rose through the air.

The Bat watched her become an unsteady spot of light, indistinguishable form other stars. Shaking himself out of the trance, He fried a grapple into the sky. Picking up his attire, he followed the beacon to a set of trashcans in another such alley. He fell through the flickering holograph and opened roof, landing in a crouch between the seats.

No sooner than he changed back, the proximity alert blinked in warning. Dropping the cover, Wayne met her searching eyes.

Diana leisurely strode closer. "You forgot to pay the bill." She leaned over him.

"I 'forgot' my jacket in the restaurant." Bruce replied. "Keys, wallet and all."

"You'll call in the other car?" She didn't need to specify which.

"This _is_ the other car." A cunning smirk threatened his cool.

"Hidden in plain view." She walked around it to the other side, looking for any unusual feature, didn't find any.

While she examined the vehicle, Bruce opened a secret compartment and took something from it with a sleight of hand. "I do appreciate you." He held out a single red rose.

The look they shared was many things at once: a thanks and welcome, and an agreement to end at this high point. Like a true gentleman, Bruce dropped Diana off at an inconspicusous location and walked her to the predetermined beam-out coordinates. He gave her an innocent kiss goodnight bur she deepened it, pulling him closer.

"Not yet." He managed a husky whisper, looking at the ground. "It's not…

"Appropriate?" She cut in. "I don't care about protocols, Bruce."

"We can't be paired in both identities." He spoke below threshold of normal human hearing „The public still thinks I almost killed myself on Santo Caro trying to save you."

She noticed the unspecified 'you', and knew he never left things ambiguous unless… "Clark could publish something on the founder's friction." Diana was quick with a solution.

Bruce snorted. "Like he would do me a favor right now."

"He might do _me_ a favor." Diana replied.

He looked up slowly, his expression mild, as if he didn't dare hope. But his hand reached out to her instinctively, callous fingers grazing her cheek. This time he provided the passion. If his instincts had say, Bruce would have taken her right than and there. It took all of his discipline to pull away. Diana didn't question his action, just took a step back.

Seeing her phase out, Bruce returned to the black speedster. He leaned into the seat and stared at the clear, star lit sky. With eyes closed he felt a warmth swell in the pit of his stomach. Ki, lifeforce, overabundant and needing a way out. His brain was hijacked by thoughts of her. He knew patrolling in this condition would be suicide. Revving the car up, Bruce took off without aim, just moving through the city streets. He searched the stations until a familiar guitar riff filled the cabin.

_With no secrets. No obsession.  
This time I'm speeding with no direction.  
Without a reason. What is this fire?  
Burning slowly. My one and only.  
Desire...  
_

_You know me. You don't mind waiting.  
You just can't show me, but God I'm praying,  
That you'll find me, and that you'll see me,  
That you'll run and - never tire.  
Desire..._

_To be continued..._

For the curious uninformed: Ryan Adams – Desire.


	22. Music

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Music**

Diana walked up the manor driveway, wondering why Bruce had called her for. Two weeks of dating had gone by marvelously, and suddenly he was grim as the reaper itself.

"Good evening, your highness." Alfred welcomed Diana inside. "Master Wayne is in his room." Seeing her look up, to the hallway leading to the aforementioned room, he added. "I believe he won't mind if you join him there." He said kindly.

With a nod and a smile they parted as Diana headed upstairs.

She found Bruce standing by the window, staring out into the fading twilight. A sad yet hopeful strings and piano tune came from the stereo, playing to aggressive, foreboding percussions. The ambient made was one of eve before battle. Immersed in the music, his face had an expression of longing.

Diana studied him, knowing why he would respond to such a song. "What's the title?" She asked some time into the piece.

"Crusade." He answered without moving, not really aware of the question.

"I've never heard it before."

"Modern." Bruce explained laconically, than turned to her. "Good things are hard to come by." The words were layered with meanings.

The music shifted to a slower pace. A serene theme was building up to a promise of happiness, while a mournful undercurrent ran in the background, punctuated by bell tolls, reminding of mortality. Bruce chose to ignore them, focused on the sweet-sounding vocals instead. Diana accepted the offered hand and stepped into his arms. The two danced lazily, growing closer as the song progressed, she leaning her head on his chest, his hand stroking the small of her back.

"This one?" She whispered.

Bruce closed his eyes for a moment, hesitant to answer. "Love and war." His baritone rumbled through her.

He tipped her chin up and looked straight into her eyes, searching for something. The tension between them grew along with the rising sopranos. The look in Diana's eyes made it known she offered everything, but Bruce couldn't bring himself to accept what he already chose to betray. The vocals died, leaving the sad background to conclude the song.

In the silence between two numbers, it occurred to him that he had nothing to loose. Diana was going to hate him anyway, why not than do what they both wanted. In a strange way, it was the best of both worlds. He would be spared the misery of regret over wasted opportunities, and she the misery that life with him entailed.

"May I have this dance, princess?"

Diana didn't deny it, but pulled closer into his embrace, moving with the music. The heartbeat drum made a solid base for two themes alternating their roles back and forth, ebbing and flowing entwined. Bruce showed her everything he couldn't put to words. She noticed the look of apology in his eyes but mercifully chose to ignore it, as if she guessed its cause. He in turn stayed the night, choosing for once in his life to put someone before the city.

An early riser, Diana drifted to sleep in his arms while Bruce lay awake long after midnight. Watching her blissful in his arms, Bruce felt a pang of guilt. Unable to face her in the morning, he slipped from under the sheets.

Having dressed he left the manor ignoring Alfred's inquiry as to his plans. Driving aimlessly, Subconsciously or by accident, he passed by After Dark. It was a night club he purchased some time ago, when he was just establishing himself as a reckless spendthrift. Bruce figured being the owner; he could get served after the working hours. It appeared to be becoming a habit.

Walking in, Bruce second guessed the policy of keeping his body a booze free zone. "Scotch." He knocked on the bar, looking over the establishment. His eyes fell on a grand piano, making him wonder if his fingers still remembered.

Drink in hand, Bruce wadded off to the piano, dabbing clumsily as he tried to get in the hang of it. Fourth, fifth, major – wrong. minor than major… Sitting down, he took a sip. An alcohol innocent, Bruce was forced to close his eyes against the searing that flowed down his throat.

_Great, I can't even get drunk…_

He left the thick-bottomed glass on the piano and repeated the phrase, starting from the top. Short keys fitting the drizzle outside. Bruce added a barely audible humming in place of the vocals.

The staff took pause from their work to witness the unforeseen event: the inept, unwavering hedonist playing a somber number. A little rusty, yes, but the skill was in there somewhere. The several times interrupted crescendo was without a pinnacle, easing back to low-key instead. From time to time he would let an 'Hallelujah' on a whisper, the night's details running in his minds eye like some recording. Just a new addition to a long line of doomed relationships. This was becoming the damned soundtrack of his life.

Bruce let the last phrase wither into silence before leaving the bar just as he arrived. The staff did not applaud or stare him out, but merely returned to their work, quieter than before.

When he stepped out into the rain, planning to busy himself out of heartache, something in his mind clicked. A realization hit him like a tone of bricks.

His face morphed to a scowl. "Waller…" He grated the name out like a swear word.

Beating himself over not seeing the obvious, over the fact that Diana may yet slip through his fingers, Bruce never noticed driving back. The next thing he was a ware of was Diana walking down the manor stairs in his robe.

"Where were you?" She asked with concern at the sight of him, drenched to the bone.

"Diana…" He paused, fighting with his paranoid, control-freak demons. If he couldn't trust the entire league any more, at least he could trust her. "There's something you should know."

_To be continued…_


	23. Trust

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Trust**

Diana and Bruce sat in the Cave before the Cray's terminal. The dank room was chilled with more than just the winter air.

She frowned. "This is what you were planning?" Her calm voice hid a turmoil of emotions.

"Yes." Bruce squeezed out, wondering what kind of mind control she pulled on him, making him uneasy with the mere thought of her angry at him. Or disappointed. Or hurt.

"Why?" Diana demanded, than realized the pointless redundancy of her question. "Right." She sighed. "So now what?"

Bruce couldn't believe what he was about to say. "Tell Clark to trust me." With the ice broken, the rest came out easier. "No matter what happens tomorrow, no mater what I ask of him, no mater how things appear at any point, he _has_ _to_ trust me."

"But I can't tell him any of this?" She pointed at the screen.

"The only way for three people to keep a secret is for two of them to die. And you're the eight."

"Expecting a carnage any time soon?" Diana followed his logic.

"Involuntary manslaughter if Clark goes ballistic at me." His delivery was so calm she didn't know if he was dead serious or just joking. "But it only has to be a secret for 24 hours." He hoped to ease her mind.

She propped her chin on a fist. "You're asking a lot, Bruce. Could _you_ do it if the situation was reversed?"

"Could you imagine Clark thinking this up?" He directed at the same screen, not thinking about the man's planning skills.

"True." She nodded. "But you're lucky that he's the kind of person to give Lex the benefit off the doubt."

Bruce had a thing or two to comment on that but kept his mouth shut. "Tell him the truth. Tell him I've shown you the plan willingly. That you've agreed to go along. That I'm…" He bit his lip. "…I'm practically begging him to trust me." Even amended the phrase still felt like gutting himself.

"And if this works out Waller will think she won and stop trying to tear us apart?" Diana wanted to see if she got everything right.

"If it works she'll be misinformed, will underestimate us and probably get and ego trip to cause a drop in effort. Combined, these will hopefully cause her to come up with inferior tactics against us." He corrected, ever on the side of caution.

She smiled at him. "You just used 'us' twice in two sentences and by it you meant the entire League."

"That is the polar opposite of what she must be convinced tomorrow." Bruce was still all business.

Diana looked at the screen intently, intimidated by the enormity of the task at hand. "This is the second favor I'll owe him."

"Will a raise and a better condo do?" He asked in good humor, his hand clasping her.

Diana slipped her fingers between his. "Let's hope so."

_To be continued…_


	24. Marathon

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Marathon**

The day of reckoning finally arrived. Dick walked idly about the office. Fox stood behind his desk. Bruce sat in a guest chair, fingers stapled and steel eyes fixed on the phone, anticipating. True enough, it rang. Dick turned around as Bruce pressed a button.

"What the **hell** do you think you're doing?" Amanda's pissed voice boomed through the speaker. "You think this is a game, rich boy? What you just did is willful government sabotage. Tantamount to treason. I'll have you locked up for life!"

"Do that and a pushy little Daly Planet reporter will discover you've taken taxpayer money." Bruce leaned in over the phone.

"What?" She was mad and a bit confused.

"The funding for the Ultimen II project. " Bruce let her know just how much he knew.

A pause marked her surprise. "That's a legitimate Cadmus project." she retorted.

"But Cadmus is a black operation. You can't really go public with that alibi. Come to that, you can't even go to the congress with it." Bruce teased. "Not when you acted against their direct denial of approval. Their triple consecutive denial." He drove the point home. "For all intents and purposes you have taken people's hard earned money and used it against their wishes. When the scandal is through you'll whish you did stash the millions in some banana republic."

Silence.

"Or should I reveal the satellite image showing Doomsday leave one of your facilities." Bruce pulled another ace from his sleeve. "A creature you were not suppose to be keeping in the first place"

More silence.

"One more thing." He added. "keep Lex out of my business."

„What are you talking about? " Came the instant comeback. This she expected.

„I've known Lex since prep school. He thinks I'm a retard, but he kept out of my company for old times sake. He only attempted to push me out since you came along. " Bruce explained. „**Stop** putting ideas into his head. " He added a little bat to his voice.

Dick suppressed a snicker.

"As much as I would like to be in cahoots with the most popular presidential candidate, I am not. " Amanda bluffed well. „I serve the current president."

„Would that mean you, as expert on national security, didn't grant him permission for the radiology waste concession? Which he is now using as a source of weapons grade kryptonite."

"You're bluffing. You couldn't possibly have evide-"

"The question isn't weather or not I'm bluffing, Ms. Waller." Bruce cut her off. "But weather or not you are willing to risk finding out." He spoke like a veteran poker player.

"No." She spat out. "I'm not."

Bruce smiled. "Goodbye Ms. Waller, it's been a pleasure doing business with you." His smile was smug.

"Goodbye Wayne." Her greeting was a threat.

Several tense minutes later, the phone rang again.

"Farmer." Fox read the number id.

Bruce gestured a go-ahead.

"Bruce, a number of machines you've sent us was defunct and have caused us to lose a million dollar contract." The director of PharmaGene CEO cut straight to the issue. „We will have to demand refund for the equipment and the lost profit. "

„I'm sorry to hear that, Eugene, but you will have to talk to Lex on that one. " Bruce sounded genuinely sorry.

„Lex? What dose he have to do with this? He is the one that sub-contracted us. "

"Didn't you hear the news? He just bought the 50 percent plus 1 share of Wayne Tech. Luthor is the majority owner now. " Bruce was deadpan.

He did?" Eugene was shocked. "He is?"

"See for yourself."

"It appears so." Eugene sounded confused. "Goodbye Bruce."

"Goodbye Eugene. Sorry I couldn't have been of help. "Bruce leaned into the big chair. "I give him five minutes."

"Less." Dick stated his opinion.

In a little under two, the phone rang yet again.

"What have you done!!?" Lex came in loud.

"We set you up, Lex." Fox was calm and collected. „You see, Mr. Garyson and I are not particularly fond of hostile takeovers."

„Grayson..." Lex whispered. „Richard _Dick_ Grayson. " He fumed.

"One and the same." Dick answered.

"What do you want? " Luthor was ever willing to trade.

"Our shares for your shares." Fox stated the simple demand.

"That's absurd!" Lex was downright insulted. "Fifty plus for what, twelve?"

"You seem to be forgetting several things." Fox amended. "First of which is their current price. As I recall, you bought less and less of them for more and more, upping their price significantly. The last share you bought you paid ten million I believe."

"Yes." Lex grated out with ire.

"While you sold your own _an mase_, causing their price to go down. True?."

"It's still incomparable in the total sum." Luthor had a point.

"Objectively speaking, yes." Dick interjected. "But while I merely inherited this company, you built yours from scratch. Which is why you will do anything to keep it from bankruptcy."

Lex chuckled. "Why should I fear that, boy?"

„Because as board member, I'll use my vote to veto all future LexCorp projects until every last share of Wayne Tech in your possession returns to its rightful owner."

„You wouldn't!"

Dick sighed. „You're right. I'll veto only the unethical ones. I do hope you learn to conduct business honestly before you ruin us both. "

Lex didn't reply.

"There's also the fact that Wayne Enterprise consists of several companies, of which Wayne Tech is only one…"

"The most important one." Lex replied.

"Actualy, sir. That is no longer the case." Fox joined in. "Since discovering your little ploy, the management agreed to shift focus to other companies just in case, and pretty evenly if I may say."

"So you see, loosing any one company won't be nearly as hard on us as loosing your whole life's work will be on you." Dick executed the cop de grace.

Bruce beamed with pride.

Utterly defeated, Lex sighed. „All right, we will trade. "

„Shall we let Lucius and Mercy deal with the details, Lex?" Dick offered.

„Why not. " Lex muttered. "Why not." The signal was redirected.

"Time to pay the bills." Bruce picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hello, Eugene, It's Bruce. Look, there seems to have been some kind of misunderstanding. Apparently Lex didn't buy those share's after all. Tell me about it. I have no Idea how they mixed up something that big. Listen, about the compensation… We're a little short of cash right now so how 'bout a partnership? Wayne Chem devised a new drug, supposed to be a big hit, I'll give you the rights of production. Think five years of research for free. You produce it, we market and deliver it and the two companies share the profit. The drug? Lazareen. Acitvates the bodies 'forgotten' regenerative abilities. Ofcourse it passed the FDA. Wonder drug, I know. Fifty-fifty? Great, Bye."

Dick frowned. „That's all peachy, but are you're just gonna let Lex get away with it? "

"Heavens, no." Bruce dialed another number. "Listen and learn."

"Daly Planet." Lois Lane answered.

"Lois, it's Bruce." He greeted friendly. „I have a juicy lead for you. "

"Do tell..." Lois was enthusiastic.

"Lex Luthor received several government contracts without public application. Corruption in the highest circles, I smell a Pulitzer here."

Lois sighed. "Bruce, why do you try. You know that army of lawyers will bail him out again."

"True, but not before the scandal ruins his publicity."

"Elections!" Lois slapped her forehead so loud they heard it over the phone.

"Also:" Bruce ticked on his fingers „Loss of profit due to loss of consumer trust and respect. Extra expenditures for marketing, to reverse the negative publicity trend. Extra expenditures for lawyers, bribes and blackmails to deal with the lawsuit. And when word of one of those leaks out, which it will, because a certain detective will be keeping an eye on him… Let's just say some things have a way of growing exponentially."

Dick could have sworn he heard and evil laugh.

"That's not just justice, Bruce, that's revenge! And I'll enjoy helping you take him down." Lois was smug.

Bruce smiled. "That's why I picked you over Smallvile. You'll have the incriminating evidence on your desk in minutes. 'Bye Louis."

"Goodbye."

Dick looked impressed. "That was…"

"Nothing." Bruce said. "Remember that bankruptcy treat?"

Fox frowned. "We've got no more bargaining chips."

"Not directly, no." Bruce called Adams. "Hello, this is Bruce Wayne, who am I speaking to. Hello Will. How much shares did you acuire? Thirty five percent? Impressive. That's how much votes, seven? Nice. Listen, I'd like you to establish that company you mentioned, Gothamites co was it? Right. You be its manager and keep an eye on what Lex is doing. If he suggests a suspicious business veto him. Yeah, I know he'll slip the big jobs undetected, but still try. A little improvement is still an improvement. Thank you very much Adams. Goodbye."

"Who. Was. That?" Dick stared.

"Just someone I helped." Bruce rose from his seat. "Time for stage two."

_To be continued… _


	25. Critical

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Critical**

„**Q?**" Bruce spoke into am microphone from behind a laptop in a dark storage-like space.

„I'm inside." The answer was a whisper. "The missile is here."

„**Wait for my signal.**" Bruce switched between channels. „You on him?"

„**Like a shadow.**" Quinn's voice replied low key.

„Good hunting." Bruce switched the link again and Barbara's avatar appeared on screen. „Status?"

„System hacked, dish ready,." She replied in her synthesized voice.

Bruce turned to Fox. „Everything checked?"

„Double checked." The man nodded.

Bruce gave him a long look, as if he wasn't certain they'd see one another again. „You knew nothing of this. You were at the clinic all evening. Leslie will confirm the alibi. Go."

Fox squeezed the younger man's shoulder. „Take care, Bruce." With an exchange of nodds, the old man left.

„What about us?" Gordon walked up to Bruce, Dick and Tim at his rear.

„If we succeed we won't need one. If we fail..." Wayne's voice trailed off.

Gordon held out his hand and Bruce shook it firmly, than he pressed a key. „**Go**."

The men waited in a tense silence, but not for long.

„Plan B! Plan B!" Q Hollered frantically. „Attempted disarmament triggered emergency launch! The missile is going straight for the Tower!"

„**LEAVE.**" Bruce ordered and than switched the line to Arrow. „**Get him out.**"

„Will do." Quinn whispered back.

Bruce switched again. „Scramble!"

„Already on it." Oracle answered. „Missile deflected, it's aiming for the Sun."

"NEAR satellite grid detected six objects entering the atmosphere." Bruce took a deep breath to steel himself. „Move to Plan C1."

„Beacon active." She replied. „Signal loud and clear."

Bruce got up from the makeshift command and ran to the center of the warehouse. _Five, four, three..._

Six founding Leaguers crashed through the roof. Taking in the sight of the unpleasantly familiar prison, they froze in shock.

"Clark." Bruce barked, snapping them out of it. "I have to lock you up. I give you my word, nothing will happen to you."

The proximity alarm bleeped._ "10 miles."_ An electronic voice informed.

"Supes?" Wally looked at him for guidance, as did all others save Diana.

The man of steel turned to her. "Is this what he showed you?"

"Yes."

"_9 miles."_

"Clark, we don't have much time." Bruce growled, annoyed by the procrastination.

"_8 miles."_

"Trust me." He knew the secret word, but couldn't force himself to say it.

"_7 miles."_

_Dammit_. "Please."

Clark made a sharp nod and Bruce returned it. "Light's on. Leaguer's in assigned cells. Sedatives. He was in command mode again. "NOW."

„_6 miles."_

Leaguers moved into hight-tech jail cells improvised out of cargo containers. The Gothamites locked them up and administered the personalized sedatives. Red lights and heaters flickered to life, setting the stage. The proximity alarm moved with the countdown.

„_1 mile" _Came the final warning.

The rattle of chopper blades steadily grew louder.

„**Hide.**" Bruce shot the other men a stern look.

Gordon and the youths took shelter under a led trap door. Marines burst inside from every door and window, surrounding an unmoving, unphased Bruce.

"Hold your fire." Amanda's voice came from the main entrance.

"Ms. Waller." Wayne greeted calmly.

"Unit, fall back." She ordered and the marines promptly left, holding perimeter outside the warehouse.

Walking over, Bruce pulled a CD from his chest pocket. "Evidence of Luthor's scheemes." He handed it over. "I leave him to your better judgment."

Amanda squinted at him, tapping the disk. "I leave them to your judgment." She said, glancing over the incapacitated leaguers. At the door, she paused for one last look back. "And you to their."

As the chopper rattle faded out, Bruce let out a deep breath he didn't notice holding. "All clear." He called out. "Let's wake them up."

_To be continued..._


	26. Mend

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Mend**

The leagues began gradually returning to consciousness. The four Gothamites helped them out of the shacles as they came to.

"What was that?" Flash was the first to recover, and speak.

"A show for Waller." Bruce explained.

"What dose she have to do with this?" Stewart crossed his arms, feet planted.

"She tried to defeat the league by causing internal breakdown."

Flash tilt his head. "How?"

"Amanda turned a blind eye on Luthor's missile construction, knowing he'd use it against us." Bruce began from the top. "When I left the league, she told him to attack me financially-" Drowned out by a salve of angry, shocked and caring replies, he gestured for silence. "The attack is already thwarted."

Sighs of relief came form the audience.

"It was a lure meant for me to find the missile." Bruce moved on. "Waller assumed I would work to solve it on my own, keep you out of the loop and in so doing alienate myself further." He fell silent, worried at her ability to predict his actions. "She assumed correctly." It was the closest thing they would get to an apology from him. 

"And this?" Shayera thumbed at the cells.

"A way to fool her into thinking she succeeded." Bruce told the partial truth, omitting the fact it was at first a real contingency of his.

Clark shook his head. "You should have told us, Bruce. This was risky. I thought you were about to turn into a Lord."

Wayne was not about to beg their forgiveness. "Even?" He bit off, irate.

It occurred to Clark just what Bruce must have gone thought a few weeks back. Helplessly watching your brother in arms start the slide into tyranny was by no means pleasant. Neither was being left out of big decisions. "Even." His voice was both an apology and forgiveness.

Bruce held out a hand and Clark took it, pulling the other man into a bone-crunching hug.

Wayne knew an appeal to dignity wouldn't work, so... "Clark..." He croaked. "...air."

"Oh, sorry." The man of steel stepped away.

"So are you coming back?" Shayera inquired.

Bruce shook his head. "We have to keep Waller in the dark. _And_ I've got a city to protect." He noticed their disappointed looks. "But If there's ever an alien invasion…"

"And the Tower upkeep?" Stewart was ever a soldier type.

Wayne's brow furrowed in thought. "I'll recommend you to a trusted company. Something Swiss perhaps." He winked. "And Clark, I want a story on this in the press." Bruce ordered his employee. "Yesterday."

Clark smiled. "Yes, Mr. Wayne."

"We better be going." The manhunter spoke. "The tower is without a senior leaguer".

Exchanging silent farewells with Bruce, the leaguers took off. Diana lagged behind, than turned to face him, mouthing 'See you later.'

"Come on." Bruce turned to the waiting men. "Let's go home."

_To be continued…_


	27. Begining

**JUST BUSINESS**

**Beginning**

Bruce stirred on the minimalist king-size bed, enjoying the womb-like weight and warmth of the large down comforter. Turning to the side his hand reflexively reached across the bed, finding only cool, ruffled sheets. Sky blue eyes squinted at the empty space as he let out a little disappointed sigh. Sitting up he leaned against the headboard and yawned. Last tendrils of sleep slowly withdrew from his mind.

He looked about the penthouse master bedroom, satisfied with the way it was arranged. A blend of Ancient Greek, medieval Japanese and modern American. Somehow it even looked natural.

It was home, _their_ home.

Feather light footsteps came form outside, accompanied by a rousing aroma, coaxing a sleepy smile to his face. Diana pushed the wooden sliding doors open with her elbow, cautious not to tip the box-shaped breakfast tray. She approached with the grace of royalty, his black silken robe doubling as her nightgown. Smitten, he stared at her as she came over, his mouth slightly agape.

Sitting on her side, Diana handed him a tall glass of fresh orange juice with an elegant motion. She leaned into the pillow set against the headboard, flapping straight the day's addition of Daly Planet. Propping up on an elbow, Bruce took the glass and pecked her cheek. He drank the juice and peeked at the papers from the side as she sipped warming mocha and turned the pages. Several titles of varied importance caught their attention, though they did not read the articles.

The headline news was a final installment of Lois Lane's series on the Lexgate scandal, a Pulitzer deserving piece by their lay assessment. The international news contained an article on a strife among the Justice League's founding members, courtesy of Clark Kent. Perry White himself wrote the shot piece on the promising new drug developed by Pharmagene & WayneChem. Last but definitely not least, was a gem in the tabloids. Another of Jim Olsen's photos of Bruce and Diana, entitled 'Amazon princes tames the prince of Gotham?' The two looked at each other with cunning smiles.

The sun peeked from behind a cloud, casting amber light on the glass towers of downtown. Diana left her mug and walked to the large glass wall to take in the sight. Bruce came to stand behind her, wrapping his arms protectively around her. Palms resting on her stomach, he thought this was only…

**The Beginning**


End file.
